


accidentally in love

by harukatenoh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Minor Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell, No beta we die like mne, POV Alternating, Past Relationship(s), um.. revenge antics?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harukatenoh/pseuds/harukatenoh
Summary: (201): Living well is not the best revenge. Fucking his brother is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i struggled very hard with the decision to post this on here or on my other account but here you are. complete and utter content 180 from me. theon/robb has me by the throat
> 
> work title from accidentally in love by counting crows

The door to the apartment opens. Asha steps through.

She surveys the scene in front of her with a calm, unfazed demeanour, and then she turns to look at Theon, sitting in the middle of it all. He knows he has about thirty seconds to explain before his sister calls the cops on him in his own apartment.

He really has no good way to say this, so he exercises his pitiful amounts of diplomacy and says “Jon and I have ended things.”

At that, Asha purses her lips. Raises an eyebrow. Looks around the room again.

“This is from you and Jon breaking up?” She asks, unimpressed. 

Theon wrinkles his nose. “Jon and I were  _ not _ dating in the first place.”

Another eyebrow raise, but Theon isn’t about to back down on this one. Under no circumstances ever would he enter a relationship with Jon Snow, and Asha  _ knows  _ that. 

After a few seconds of intense eye contact, Asha rolls her eyes.

“Fine. This is from you and Jon ending a year of tedious banter and repeated bouts of hatesex?”

Theon considers that. He can’t really find any issue with the statement, even if he feels vaguely wronged, so he has to suck it up and nod in acceptance.

“I suppose you can put it like that,” he says concedingly. Asha continues to look unimpressed.

“Little brother,” she says, just to be patronizing, “you’ve ended things with people before. Many, many,  _ many _ times. Never before has it warranted… this.”

Theon crosses his arms at the implication in her words, staring Asha down. He will admit that there are extenuating circumstances at play, but Jon Snow being other party in this situation is  _ not _ one of them. Absolutely not. Theon can’t give less of a shit about Jon. 

It’s what he’s done that’s the issue.

He uncrosses his arms, and then crosses them again. He can’t decide which one is more imposing.  _ Crossed _ , he settles on. 

“Did you know, big sister,” he starts, because he can be patronizing too, “that until today, I have never been broken up with?”

Asha stares at him. He stares back. 

It is very easy to read the expressions that run across her face. Incredulity. Confusion. Realization. More incredulity.

“One,” she says, holding up a finger, “I refuse to believe that.”

“This isn’t a debate,” Theon cuts in.

Asha ignores him and continues on smoothly, raising up another finger. “Two, if that  _ is  _ true, it explains so much. Three—”

“How many more to go?” Theon asks dryly.

Asha glares at him. “Three,” she repeats again, a little more insistent, “I thought you and Jon weren’t dating. Four—”

“ _ Four?” _

Asha growls, “is getting dumped really such a blow to your ego that you had to make our living room look like an exploded runway?”

Theon looks around the room, which looks unfortunately exactly like what Asha describes, and then turns back to his sister. 

“It helps me think,” he says while shrugging. He can't really see her issue.

So what if he had underestimated the amount of space that organizing his clothing by colour and function and then age would take up? Does it matter if he had decided that his room just wouldn’t do, and moved his project into the living room instead? Is it  _ truly  _ so terrible that it’s his second hour into this project now, with no end in sight?

It’s not like this is the first time Asha has seen him outfit-plan weeks in advance or overthrow his entire wardrobe organizational plan after considerable emotional duress. It’s certainly not going to be the last; after all, Theon believes it’s his birthright to be a drama queen.

Asha sighs and drops her handbag, keys and jacket into a pile by the door, since Theon’s taken over the coat rack. She picks her way through the assorted mounds of Theon’s clothing until she’s standing right in front of him. Then she gives him a long, appraising look.

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

Asha switches between awkwardly leaving trays of breakfast at Theon’s door without saying anything and awkwardly confronting him when she thinks he’s upset. It’s… endearing, Theon will say. Almost reassuring. Theon, at least, isn’t  _ that _ bad at dealing with his emotions.

Then again, he’s currently standing surrounded by the contents of his entire wardrobe cast around his living room, so he really can’t talk.

He sighs, and then he nods. “I’m fine, Asha.”

Asha doesn’t look like she believes him at all, which is only fair, because Theon may or may not be lying through his teeth. He doesn’t give a shit about Jon Snow, he  _ doesn’t _ , but the way Jon had looked at him this morning, the things he’d said; thinking about it it makes Theon’s skin  _ crawl _ .

See, Theon is the one who ends things. Theon is the one who leaves, or runs, or ditches.  _ Theon _ is the one who cuts ties, who decides that he’s bored or uncomfortable or annoyed, always before the other person can realize that they feel that way about him. 

How had he let himself get comfortable around Jon? He should’ve been running for the hills months ago; now he stands here, desperate not to admit that the thought of even Jon Snow, with his scowl like thunder and his simmering resentment, getting tired of Theon smarts. It hurts in a way that Theon hadn’t expected at all, considering that their relationship was based solely off of aggravating each other and hooking up.

Obviously, he’s not going to tell Asha all that. She can stare warily at him all she wants, but on his part, he’s already gotten past the intense bouts of self-loathing. He’s moved on to better things. Brighter prospects. 

After all, the reason he’s doing the ever-calming and mind-clearing act of organizing his wardrobe is because he’s moved on to thinking about revenge.

He decides to tell Asha this.  Maybe it’ll get her to back off, or distract her.

He says “If you want to help me, I’m planning the outfit I’ll wear when I take my revenge,”

Asha immediately responds “Wear the white skinny jeans,” because she’s a surprisingly good sister sometimes, and then follows up with “Wait, idiot. Revenge?”

Theon nods, casting his eyes around the room for the aforementioned pair of jeans. He spies them over in the  _ light-coloured party pants _ section by the T.V., and he makes his way over to survey them. As he does, he says “Revenge, obviously. Jon doesn’t get to break my pure maiden heart like that and  _ not  _ face repercussions.”

He picks up the jeans, holding them up against his legs. Asha is right about them; they’re definitely revenge outfit material.

Asha, off to the side, makes a disbelieving scoff. “Pure maiden heart,” she repeats, holding back a smile. Theon doesn’t hold back his grin in response.

Asha rolls her eyes and her entire posture relaxes, coming off of the offensive. “You’re seriously planning revenge for getting not-dumped,” she says, like she can’t believe her ears and yet believes all too well. 

Theon nods, moving on from the pair of jeans to surveying what he thinks is his pile of  _ dark-coloured party shirts _ , but could just as easily be his  _ dark-coloured morning university classes shirts. _ He needs labels, maybe.

“I’m making plans for the future,” he says as he grabs a black cropped shirt from the pile. Definitely party shirts then, because his university classrooms are always too cold to be this exposed. “You should be proud of me,”

Asha snorts a laugh. “You’re unbelievable,” she says, and she almost sounds fond, but neither her nor Theon are about to acknowledge it. “As much as I love a good revenge plot, what can you even do?”

Theon put his hands on his hips. That’s his problem exactly. He’s been thinking it over for a while now, but aside from childishly blocking Jon’s number and all his social media, which Theon has obviously already done, he doesn’t know what else to do. He has standards and dignity after all, so all the cliché and petty revenge schemes that people usually go for are out of the question. Theon is not about to get caught egging Jon’s house or keying his car, even if they would be satisfying. They’re just too…  _ predictable _ .

“I’m still figuring it out,” Theon finally says, nudging the corner of a blue scarf out of the way so that he could look at what’s underneath it. “I’m sure it’ll come to me,”

Asha deems him a lost cause, which seems to be the general consensus of everybody who Theon interacts with, and scoffs again. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she says, moving towards the kitchen. 

Theon nods, waving her goodbye with another smile, and then returns to the problem at hand.

* * *

Unfortunately for Theon, the problem remains unsolved for an entire week. Nothing he comes up with feels right, and his window of opportunity is closing fast. He’s not the type to lay out meticulous plans and lie in wait; he wants to strike hard and fast, and after a week, he can feel his motivation dropping. 

He’s at a party surrounded by people he mostly doesn’t know; he thinks the host is a Robert or something, who might be the older brother of Renly, who is dating Loras, who Theon vaguely associates with due to the common experiences of being out and proud and really, really good looking. He’s wearing the revenge outfit he decided on, even if no revenge-taking is going to occur this night, because it’s an excellent fucking outfit. He knows he looks good, and he’s looking forward to finding somebody to occupy his night; it’s the reason he’s at this party at all. A sweet, pretty girl, maybe; after so long of only fucking Jon, it’s probably what he needs.

Instead, Margaery Tyrell walks up to him. While she is sweet, when she wants to be, and rather attractive, Theon also knows that she firmly bats for the other team. Hiding any disappointment, he smiles at her as she approaches.

“Theon,” she greets, “how are you?”

“Why, much better now that you’re here,” Theon responds, reaching over to pick the cup of what he hopes is alcohol in her hands and taking a sip. Whiskey and coke. Margaery has great taste. “What do you need me for?”

He and Margaery are on perfectly fine terms, but he knows that they aren’t the sort of terms that warrant walking up to one another at a party just to say hi. She wants something, and Theon isn’t exactly interested in playing the games that Margaery likes to set up. They’re usually fun, but tonight he’s just not in the mood.

Margaery rolls her eyes, but doesn’t try to play the conversation anymore. “Loras is setting up a game of beer pong, and he wants you to join,” she says.

Theon laughs. “I’m terrible at beer pong, and Loras knows that,” he replies, crossing his arms. “What’s the catch?”

“Well, he doesn’t want you on  _ his _ team,” Margaery responds with a grin, and Theon laughs in understanding. “He and Renly have paired up and roped in a third person, and they need a fourth player,”

“And Loras suggested me because he knows I’ll drag my team down,” Theon concludes for her, torn between being amused or being irritated. He settles on amused, because it’s less effort than being annoyed with one of the only people he can kind of call friend. “Who am I to disappoint him?”

Theon offers his arm to Margaery with an unnecessary flourish, and Margaery laughs, grabbing his forearm and leading him outside into the garden. It’s quite a nice house, Theon muses; it’s almost a shame that it’ll be wrecked by the end of tonight. The garden in particular is gorgeous. There are fairy lights strung up everywhere, along the trees and lining the tables, giving the entire place a soft glow that makes it look almost romantic.

If the group of hollering men standing around a table didn’t totally ruin the atmosphere, that is.

“Theon!” Loras shouts, already a decent way towards drunk. He’s got an arm wrapped around Renly and waving wildly with the other, and Theon has to roll his eyes. Loras has always been a lightweight. Next to him, Renly waves at Theon as well, his other arm around Loras’ waist with his fingers snagged in his belt-loops. 

“Hey Loras, Renly,” Theon says in greeting as Margaery delivers him to the table. Loras thanks her by trying to kiss her on the cheek, which makes her laugh and push him away with a fond look on her face. Theon smiles at the sight to hide his sudden onset of bitterness over how functional their family is, as he usually does when he has to hang around the Tyrells. 

Margaery leaves, wandering back inside, and Loras turns towards Theon again. He says “Wonderful to have you with us, Theon,” 

Renly snickers beside him, adding on “Thanks in advance for the win,”. Theon smiles wider in response, hoping that he’s somehow come into his amazing beer pong skills after twenty years so that he can wipe that smug look off of Renly’s face. 

“Where’s my partner?” he asks. He prays that it's somebody who can balance out his dismal beer pong abilities.

“We sent him to get some more cups,” Renly says, at the same time that Loras chirps “There he is now!”, prompting Theon to turn around and see—and see… wow.

Regardless of their skills in beer pong, Theon thinks that he and this random stranger can at least definitely give the other team a run for their money in the looks department. And considering that the other team in this case is Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell, that’s saying  _ a lot _ .

Theon drinks in his red curls, his bright blue eyes, and his easy smile; wonderful, wonderful and wonderful. He’s much warmer towards the idea of getting his ass kicked in beer pong, all of a sudden.

It all falls apart when his eyes travel downward, and he's subsequently assaulted with the sight of the worst shirt he’s  _ ever _ had the misfortune of viewing in his very misfortunate lifetime. 

It’s neon yellow, with an ugly red font stating front and center  _ SUNS OUT GUNS OUT.  _ That’s already bad enough, but it’s somehow made worse by the fact that it’s a damned  _ tee-shirt,  _ with sleeves the same shade as the font falling to about halfway down the guy’s biceps. The guns are not even out. It’s a blatant lie.

It’s literally the worst thing Theon’s ever seen. 

He blurts out, before he can stop himself, “What the  _ fuck _ are you wearing?”

There’s a choked laugh behind him from Renly, but Theon ignores it. There’s more pressing matters to attend to. He can’t figure out where to look, whether to focus on that abomination of a shirt or on the guy’s extremely nice face instead, both of which seem to come into clearer focus as the guy steps closer.

At least the guy’s still smiling. He’s laughing now, actually, looking down at his shirt with a rueful grin. 

“It was a present from my brother,” he says. Theon takes a moment to thank the fucking heavens that Asha doesn’t hate him  _ that _ much at least. The guy continues with “And my sister dared me to wear it today. I couldn’t back down.”

This night seems like it’s going to result in Theon gaining a new sense of appreciation for Asha as a sister.

There’s movement from behind Theon, and he finds he had forgotten the reason he’s even out here in the garden after seeing this beautiful man and his atrocious fashion choices. At least he wasn’t wearing it willingly. 

Loras steps around Theon and takes the cups from the guy’s hands, telling him “The wannabe Tyra Banks is Theon Greyjoy,” which Theon decides to take as a compliment. Loras then turns to Theon himself and says “And the sartorial criminal is Robb Stark. Be nice,”

The name rings a vague bell in Theon’s head, but he can’t be bothered interrogating the feeling. He’s probably seen Robb get named and shamed on their university’s facebook page for his fashion or something. Loras asking him to be nice is quite the high order. Theon is barely even nice to people who have normal fashion senses.

Robb sticks out a hand, still giving Theon that absurdly genuine smile, and says “Nice to meet you, Theon Greyjoy,”

Theon gives him a dry smile. “Same here, Robb Stark. Sorry about the... harsh greeting,”

Robb laughs, waving it off. It’s a really nice laugh, one that almost makes Theon’s smile grow a little gentler in response. Robb says “No worries, man. It’s a terrible shirt.”

Renly asks “Did Bran give it to you?”, sounding amused. For some reason, Theon knows that name too. Robb shakes his head.

“You won’t believe me, but it was Jon. Said it reminded him of me. Don’t know whether that reflects worse on him or on me,”

Theon freezes at that. He realizes exactly why the name Robb Stark had sounded so familiar, and why the mention of Bran—presumably also Stark—had garnered a similar reaction.

He says, carefully keeping his voice composed, “Jon Snow?”

Robb turns back to him, physically brightening. “Yeah! That’s my brother, you know him?”

Oh, does Theon know him. 

He’s suddenly reliving conversations with Jon mentioning his half-family that he’d been adopted into, usually coming in the form of complaints about them. He remembers Jon mentioning the Starks, name-dropping Bran and Arya and Sansa and Rickon and then  _ Robb _ , who he is closest to, in age and in relationship.

Theon says casually “Oh yeah, he was in some of my classes last semester,” and for once, has to stop himself from grinning. He has to play it cool. 

Throughout their thing, Theon had never met Jon’s family. Likewise for Jon; it was a line they both adamantly refused to cross. Nearly all of their friends hadn’t even known that they were hooking up. To begin with, they barely had any mutual friends, and they certainly hadn’t been advertising the relationship to people who didn’t know the other. 

Theon is suddenly very glad he’s wearing his revenge outfit. Seeing that Loras is done setting up the game, he swings an arm around Robb’s shoulders, pulling him flush, and says “How about we show these two how it’s done then?”

Robb looks surprised at the contact, but not displeased. Oh no. Not displeased at all. In fact, after the initial shock, he leans a little into Theon, grinning, and says “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

God, Theon hopes he’s good at beer pong.

* * *

They’re both awful at beer pong. 

Loras and Renly spend so much time laughing at their attempts that it actually throws them off their own game. They still win by a large margin, but it’s at least just as amusing to watch Renly giggle so much that his throw goes wild. 

Theon finds he doesn’t mind losing all that much, not when Robb’s laughter mixed with the shitty beer he keeps having to drink makes his blood buzz pleasantly, not when Robb seems to have decided that he doesn’t mind the close contact in the least. He doesn’t move away from Theon at all for the rest of the game; they stand hip to hip as both of them fail to land any of their shots, and Theon feels… not awful.

Good, even. He feels looser and more relaxed than he has all week, and Robb is a pleasant companion in both looks and personality. He’s fun to tease,  _ easy to tease _ , and doesn’t let Theon get away with any of his shitty remarks without a retort.

Revenge is going to be easier, and way more pleasant, than Theon ever anticipated. 

They’re both tipsy, tipsy enough to ignore the way Renly and Loras both raise their eyebrows at their physical contact, Robb’s hand at Theon’s back, Theon’s arm around Robb. They’re tipsy enough that it’s easy for Theon to make eye contact, to see the fire in Robb’s eyes, and to smile at him. A tiny one. Maybe even a real one.

Robb smiles back, and his smile is as bright as the fairy lights around them and just as real, and then he and Theon are wandering inside together. They’re stumbling up the stairs, giggling as they knock on doors hoping that they’ll be unlocked and the room empty, and then they find an unoccupied bedroom in Robert or someone’s  _ sprawling _ house. 

There’s just enough moonlight that Theon can see the way Robb is looking at him, something half-fire half-gold. He almost shudders and shrinks away under that gaze, but he keeps his hands steady and his breathing light.

Robb says, “I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” as if Theon doesn’t already know, and Theon has to laugh, a little breathless. Robb continues, eager and earnest, with “But I do. Want it, you know,” 

Such a gentleman. Such a chivalrous person. A stand-up sort of guy, Robb Stark is, and he’s here falling into bed with Theon Greyjoy after one night of knowing each other. He’s here, staring at Theon with those blue eyes, waiting for confirmation to a question he’s only half-raised.

Theon leans forward, his hands pulling at the edge of Robb’s shirt, and he says “I’ve been waiting all fucking night to get this thing off of you,”, grinning.

Robb laughs in response, letting Theon  _ finally _ slide the shirt off. He throws it to the side of the room with satisfaction, and then turns back to drink in the sight of Robb without his horrible fashion choices to mar it.

“Better?” Robb asks.

“Much better,” Theon breathes, leaning in, and then he puts aside all thoughts of bad clothing and chivalry and not-dumping for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen to taylor swifts delicate during this for maximum effect

When Robb wakes up that morning, he feels pleasant in a way he hasn’t in a long time. Not just physically, although he  _ does  _ feel pretty great in that regard—it had been a pretty great night. He just feels good emotionally as well. 

Free and light like he hasn’t been since ending things with Jeyne, he has to admit. He’s been pretending that he’s okay over it for so long that he almost forgot what it felt like to  _ actually _ feel okay.

He props himself up in the comfortable bed—he should really attend Robert’s parties more often—and looks over to see the other half is empty. His stomach drops.

_ Of course _ , he thinks. This is what happens. This is the norm when it comes to these kinds of situations; one night stands, casual hookups. He doesn’t know why he expected otherwise, and he berates himself for feeling bad over it.

He just… he thought that he and Theon had hit it off. It had only been one night, but it had been a night of what Robb thought was genuine laughter and enjoyment and connection. Robb had spent nearly all of it with a warm feeling in his gut and Theon plastered to his side, and that had been  _ nice _ . 

He realizes now he had been reading too much into it, getting his hopes up for nothing. Typical, really. 

With a sigh, he pulls himself up in the bed properly, looking around for his shirt. 

He spots it soon enough, because it’s  _ really  _ not easy to miss, but not before he spots the neatly folded piece of paper on top of it.

With less dignity than he would ever admit, Robb lunges for the corner of the room that his shirt resides in, snatching up the piece of paper and unfolding it, dearly hoping that it’s what he thinks it is.

In ridiculously fancy and loopy cursive, it reads: 

_ Robb, _

_ I had class this morning. Hope waking up without me wasn’t too devastating _

_ Call me ;)  _

_ Theon <3 _

Underneath that, Theon has printed his phone number in notably more careful writing than the rest of his letter. Like he didn’t want to take any chances with Robb mistaking the numbers. Between that and how endearing Robb finds Theon writing out the winky face and heart symbol by hand, it's impossible for him to hold back the grin that spreads across his face.

He’s so glad that he hadn’t been imagining it—that Theon had enjoyed last night as much as Robb had. Robb’s an idealist on the worst of days, and he knows he can project his hopes onto things and people far too easily. It had been a big part of the reason he and Jeyne had fallen apart. 

This thought sobers him. He breathes in deeply, trying to curb himself a little. It had been one night. A really good night, but still just one night. Best to keep his head, and see where it goes from here.

Robb nods, feeling sufficiently collected. He picks up his shirt.

Then, he catches sight of the scrawled  _ <3 _ and he’s set off grinning all over again, unable to stop himself.

He smiles all the way through dressing himself again, and then making the bed a little neater, and then walking out of the door. He takes two steps and then runs into Renly, who looks very put together and neat for somebody who definitely got some last night, considering that Loras had been present. 

Renly takes in the smile that Robb still can’t get rid of, amusement glittering in his eyes, and says “Good, you’re up. I was doing a sweep of the bedrooms.”

Robb nods. He spies a mark—a line of marks, actually, on the side of Renly’s neck. It makes him wonder whether he has any of his own. He hasn’t seen his reflection at all this morning; he must look like a mess. 

Then again, he at least must look like a mess who had some really great sex last night, because Renly looks him up and down appraisingly and asks “Had a good night?”

Robb’s torn between being embarrassed and being proud, so he rubs his neck and says “You could say,”. 

It’s not like Renly doesn’t  _ know _ . He had been a prime witness to the progression of Robb and Theon’s night, after all.  It’s just that it had been a little out of character for Robb; he’s glad that it was Renly and Loras who were there, instead of somebody particularly close to his siblings. If they get wind of this, Robb isn’t going to have a day of peace for weeks. 

Renly laughs, sharp and knowing. “I’m afraid I’ll have to kick you out now, as the cleaning team is coming by, but I’m glad to hear you had fun.”

A cleaning team. Robb knows he has no grounds to talk whatsoever, but the Baratheons are such  _ rich people. _

He pushes those thoughts aside and replies “Sure, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Renly wrinkles his nose, presumably at the idea of Robb even coming close to his hair, perfectly tousled as it is. “Do you need me to call a car?” he asks. 

Robb shakes his head, feeling around in his pockets until he finds his phone.

“I’ll just call Jon to pick me up,” he responds, unlocking his phone and wincing at the 5% battery displayed at the top. It’s enough, but he’s cutting it pretty close. 

“Sure, sure,” Renly says with a nod. It feels like a dismissal, but Renly seems to be lingering for some reason, so Robb does too. 

After some deliberation, Renly says “Be careful with him,”

Robb blinks. It takes him a few seconds to process what Renly has said, and a few more to connect the dots. When it finally hits him who the  _ him _ Renly is referring to could be, he blurts out “Theon?”

Renly is watching him with a level gaze. Now, like always, he’s smiling, charming, but… Robb gets the feeling that that composed gaze and half-smile are distinctly unfriendly in this instance.

Feeling something go cold inside of him, Robb asks “Do you— does he— Do you know Theon well?”

Somehow, it seems like exactly something Robb would do: break up with his long-term girlfriend then go and have his next partner be somebody with a reputation, or even worse, a history. 

Renly seems to get what Robb is trying to say, because he looks surprised for a second, before scoffing. 

“Theon’s not the problem” Renly says, voice bordering on amusement.  Robb feels relieved, but only more confused at that. Renly continues with “Usually is, but…”, then crossing his arms. He fixes Robb with a cool stare. “You’re a heartbreaker if I’ve ever seen one, Robb Stark.”

What?

Robb has  _ no  _ idea what Renly means by that. 

He currently has on a neon yellow t-shirt and a severe case of bedhead, so unless the definition of heartbreaker has changed drastically in the past three minutes, Renly is way off the mark. Robb doesn’t even know why he’s saying that, much less what he means to say. 

While Robb is busy pondering his cryptic words, Renly seems to have decided he’s done here. With a nod, he bids Robb thanks for coming, and sends him off with a half-wave and a sly smile. The expression reminds Robb a little of Theon, which in turn sets him off grinning again; he has to hastily say his goodbyes and turn away before Renly can catch the expression.

Leave Renly to be gay and mysterious if he so wants. Robb is more than happy to simply indulge in his good mood for the rest of today.

He heads outside, starting a call with Jon as he does. He’s definitely the best candidate for picking him up; he lives nearby, he owns a car, and Robb knows for a fact that last night he had spent his time studying for an upcoming test instead of going out. 

He’s also the person least likely to judge or interrogate or gossip about Robb for the obvious evidence of the events of last night on him, and the person Robb is most comfortable telling about said events. 

Robb just hopes that he’s awake; it’s ten am, but Jon’s sleep schedule is its own cryptid at this point. There’s no living evidence that it exists, even if some people swear they’ve witnessed it.

His call rings for a while, enough that Robb almost gives up, but then it finally goes through. He listens to the sounds of rustling and general grumbling with a smile on his face.

_ “Robb?” _ Jon says eventually, sounding like he’d just woken up. Robb has to hold himself back from laughing.

He says “Good morning, Jon,” and tries not to sound too cheerful, because he knows that Jon tends to get pissy when faced with optimism just after waking up. “Hey, am I a heartbreaker?”

Jon grumbles. Then, he says something that sounds vaguely like  _ “What the fuck are you talking about?” _ and there’s more grumbling. When his voice finally becomes audible and coherent, Jon says  _ “You waking me up is heartbreaking, so yes. Asshole.” _ This mostly only tells Robb that he had failed at not sounding too upbeat, but it’s a small issue. Jon wouldn’t leave Robb hanging, he knows.

“Don’t be rude,” Robb pretends to reprimand. Jon grumbles some more.

_ “What’s up?”  _ he sighs, sounding despondent. Robb stifles another laugh.

“I was wondering if you could pick me up from Robert’s house,” he says, aiming for a tone as casual as he possibly can. He’s kind of hoping that Jon is still sleepy enough that he doesn’t question Robb’s whereabouts, just so he can get his head sorted first. 

Instead, Jon says _ “Robert  _ Baratheon _?” _ sounding much more awake.  _ “You stayed over after the party last night?” _

“Yeah,” Robb says, hopes dashed. He figures he might as well own up to it. “I’ll tell you about it if you come get me, or else I’ll catch an Uber and take the story to my grave,”

Over the line, Robb hears Jon scoff.  _ “I think you overestimate your relevance in my life, brother,” _ Jon says dryly.  _ “But fine. I’ll come get you. Give me ten minutes,” _

“Love you!” Robb chirps back. Jon makes some more grumbling noises that Robb can translate roughly to  _ I love you too, you are my favourite brother, there is nobody better than you in this world _ , and then he’s hanging up. 

Robb checks: he’s on 2% battery. He supposes he should try and save it, just in case Jon needs to call again or something. 

What he does instead is use the last remaining charge to save Theon’s number on his phone, and then open up a message.

**[10:21] me** **  
** Hey it’s Robb!   
From Robert’s party

Surprisingly, so much so that Robb almost drops his phone when the notification comes through, Theon texts back immediately.

**[10:21] theon!!!** **  
** oh yes   
robb from robert’s party   
🍆😏👅

Robb snorts, taken off guard by the set of emojis. He thinks he’s blushing, which is honestly ridiculous, but he’s too busy being endeared by the texts to really care. 

God, he’s acting like a schoolgirl with a crush; there’s an inexplicable urge to giggle bubbling up inside of him, and he’s given up on fighting off the grin on his face. 

Before he can think of anything to reply with, another text comes through from Theon.

**[10:22] theon!!!** **  
** glad 2 see ur up   
i hear rumours that the middle baratheon child eats the hearts of anybody left in the rooms in the morning

Robb has to choke back another set of giggles at the thought of Stannis Baratheon being a  _ middle child, _ even if it is technically true. He wonders if anybody has ever referred to him as such where he could hear; Theon seems like the kind of person who would, honestly, but Theon is also still alive, and Robb is certain that Stannis would kill anybody who tried to call him that.

Grinning, Robb types back:

**[10:23] me** **  
** You should call Stannis a middle child to his face

**[10:23] theon!!!** **  
** fuck no   
not looking to die any time soon   
...ill do it if some buff football player agrees to defend me tho 😉

Robb laughs, feeling something warm blossom inside his chest. If he’s ashamed at acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, he’s at least assuaged by the fact that Theon flirts like a schoolgirl with a crush, except without any of the shame. Which probably makes it worse than a schoolgirl’s flirting, if not for that fact that Robb seems to like it, considering how wide his grin is.

His phone chooses to die the exact moment that he goes to reply, the only thing he manages to type being  _ well _ . He shouldn’t be surprised, because he’s the one who has been tempting fate, but the black screen still makes disappointment sit heavy in his stomach. He hopes that Theon doesn’t mind waiting for a response; he might just ask Jon to hang out in his apartment and charge his phone there, since it’ll be quicker than going home.

It strikes him as ridiculous that he’s planning his day around whatever will get him to a charger faster so he can text back a pretty boy, but Robb has lived his entire life unafraid of sincerity, and he figures now is a terrible time to start. Also, he does want to hang out with Jon. It’s been a while.

Speaking of Jon, Robb wonders if he’s gotten lost. It’s getting a little weird, standing in the Baratheon’s sprawling driveway with nobody else around, but it’s not like Robb can contact Jon to ask. He’s used up his phone battery, and he would also kill Jon if he was texting at the wheel.

Robb decides to get comfortable and sits down on the curb, hoping that his brother will show up soon. He really doubts that Stannis is even home, much less that he does eat the hearts of the people unlucky enough to be caught at the Baratheon house the morning after, but he doesn’t particularly feel like risking it. 

It feels like an eternity, but is probably only four minutes or so later, when he finally sees Jon’s corolla drive down the loop of the driveway. The black car rolls to a stop in front of him. Jon’s windows are blacked out, so Robb can’t see him, but he can definitely see Robb. Robb grins and waves at the dark window, and then makes his way to the passenger seat.

When Robb slides into the car, reaching for the seatbelt and purposely not making eye contact with Jon, he hears “You got laid while wearing  _ that shirt?” _ in the tones of deepest disbelief.

He instantly flushes red, looking up to meet Jon’s wide eyed-gaze. He wonders what Jon would say if he knew that the shirt had, in fact, been an instrumental part in Robb getting… laid, as Jon so charmingly put it, last night. Of course, Robb isn’t about to tell him, because that’s unnecessarily embarrassing for him and Theon both, and Jon probably doesn’t want or need to know. 

Halfway bashful and halfway proud, Robb gives Jon a smile and says “I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to your place, okay?”

Jon just looks at him, askance, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He asks “We’re going to my place?” and then he pauses, thinks about it, and follows up with “Well, I guess you can’t go home looking like that,”

Robb winces. “Do I look that bad?”

Jon’s gaze gets even wider, if that’s possible. “You haven’t seen yourself this morning?” he asks. “I thought the Baratheon mansion would have a mirror hanging in every hallway.”

Robb laughs, because he’s pretty sure he had seen a few mirrors adorning the walls; he just hadn’t thought to pay attention this morning. He replies “I wasn’t looking,” and Jon shakes his head, a wry smile on his face.

“Of course you weren’t,” Jon says, sounding almost fond. “Why did I expect the gilded Robb Stark to know basic walk of shame etiquette?”

“This isn’t a walk of shame,” Robb points out, trying his best to not feel too indignant. 

“My bad,” Jon snorts. “A call-your-sleeping-brother-and-force-him-to-come-pick-you-up-drive of shame is more accurate.”

Robb has nothing to say to that, because he knows that Jon is right, so he  _ hmphs _ and clicks in his seatbelt, turning away from Jon.

“Let’s just go,” he says, trying and failing to sound petulant. The only thing his tone achieves is making Jon laugh, but his brother does shift the car into gear afterwards, at least. 

They drive down the unnecessarily long and winding driveway through the estate and then out of the grounds altogether. It’s a silent drive, but it’s a silence they’re both familiar with. 

Robb doesn’t mind it; it leaves him able to nurse the quietly glowing warmth and happiness inside of him in peace.

* * *

The first thing Jon does when they’re back in his apartment is drag Robb to the bathroom, so he can survey his appearance for himself. 

He looks in the mirror and—oh, wow. Jon had been right. If Robb went home looking like this, his mother would’ve skinned him, nineteen years old or no. 

The bedhead and frumpiness of his clothes could’ve been played off as morning crustiness, but there was a large patch of bruising starting from his left collarbone and moving up. Far up. He stared at the mottling of red and purple with wide eyes; he vaguely remembers Theon paying quite some attention to his neck, but he hadn't realised just how far that attention went.

With a jolt, and a flush of his cheeks, Robb wonders if he has marks anywhere else.

“Damn,” Robb murmurs, fingers ghosting lightly over the expanse of hickies. “He really went to town on me,”

He forgets that Jon is standing there, slouched against the doorframe, until a choked  _ “He?” _ sounds out in the small bathroom.

Robb looks over at Jon, a sheepish smile on his face. “He,” he confirms.

Jon's eyes are wide as he glares at Robb. “You told me that was just a phase!” he accuses, crossing his arms. “I've had to bear the burden of being the gay family disappointment alone this entire time!” 

Robb, whose attention had returned to the expanse of bruising on his neck, looks up sharply. Alarmed, he frowns and says “Nobody thinks of you that way, Jon. Especially not our family. Has somebody been telling you that?”

Jon blinks. “What?” he says, sounding bewildered. “No, I was— I was joking.” 

Robb isn't willing to let it go at that, even if the rush of anger and concern inside of him has faded a little. “Still. You know we love you, right Jon? Nobody thinks any less of you because of your sexuality, or any other reasons.”

Jon looks like a deer in headlights under Robb’s scrutiny. With a halfhearted laugh, he says “Dude, I woke up 30 minutes ago. I'm not equipped to have this conversation right now,”

Robb just stares at him.

Jon stares back, but Robb's the captain of a university men's football team, and Jon is a member of the local tabletop games club. He's got no chance.

After a while, Jon relents. He says “Yes, yes, Jesus, I know you guys love me and all that.”

Robb stares some more.

“... And I love you guys too,” Jon allows through gritted teeth. 

At that, Robb nods firmly.

“You better not forget it, little brother,” he says, reaching over to flick Jon in the ear. Jon bats away his hand before he can, but there's a smile on his face nonetheless. It's small, but it reaches all the way up to his eyes, and it makes Robb smile back in response.

“Wait,” Jon says, pointing an accusing finger at Robb. “How did we even get onto this topic? I'm trying to rib you over your newly rediscovered gay tendencies,”

Robb laughs, shrugging as he turns away from the mirror. “Don't know,” he says, musing. “I guess everything seemed like a phase next to Jeyne, and now that that's over…”

He drops off. Jon studies him for a little longer, but he seems to be satisfied with what he finds, because he nods in understanding. He doesn't prompt Robb for any further explanation, just jerks his head towards the hallway.

“Fair enough. Come on, let's get out of the bathroom,” he says.

Robb gives Jon a grateful smile before he turns away, and then they both walk out into the living room. It looks the same as it ever does, spotless because Jon's roommate is a saint, except for a pile of stuff haphazardly thrown into a box.

Robb wanders over to it, and picks up the top item: a black button up shirt, almost sheer, with threads of gold running through the fabric that you can only see when the light hits it a certain way. It’s ridiculously showy and flashy, but Robb has to admit it also looks kinda cool. 

He has no idea where it could've come from. Is it Jon's? He hopes it is; when they were younger, Robb was cheated of watching Jon go through his embarrassing fashion phase. Sure, he got to witness Sansa layering jeans under skirts, and Arya tearing the sleeves off of her shirts, but Jon had hit his stride with the all black clothing when he was 13 and has been riding that wave ever since. Second year of uni is a little late to be experimenting with your style, but Robb isn't going to complain if he gets to watch Jon fumble around.

He turns around with the shirt in hand and asks Jon “Is this yours?”

Jon takes in the shirt, and strangely, what looks like  _ panic _ flickers over his expression.

“No,” he says quickly. “Not mine. It's… it's uh, my roommate’s.”

Robb looks down at the shirt, and then back up at Jon. “This is  _ Sam's?” _ he says, the doubt obvious in his tone. “Jon, this shirt is almost see through.”

“He's going through a phase,” Jon shoots back, his voice peaking a little. 

Robb looks back down at the shirt.

Some phase. 

He drops the shirt back down into the box, which he can now see is full of similarly flashy clothing. Some phase indeed.

He turns back towards Jon, who is quick to herd him away from the box and towards the couches, where they both settle in. Jon pulls open the drawer underneath his coffee table and starts going through the movies inside; it's a weirdly feigned gesture, as he avoids Robb's gaze. 

Jon clears his throat and, fingers hovering over a copy of  _ Pacific Rim _ in consideration, he asks “So, do I know your... friend from last night?”

Robb considers telling him. Theon had mentioned that he knew Jon—same class or something—but that's liable to make this conversation even more awkward. Robb doesn't think it'll be an issue for Theon, but he knows Jon, and he knows that he probably won't fare well with having to see a classmate every week and know that he had slept with his brother. 

Plus, Robb doesn't want to jump the gun with this one. He's strangely content with keeping Theon to himself for now; not as a secret, but as something that's completely his business.

With a shrug, Robb says “I don't think so,” and then immediately feels bad for lying. He follows it up with “I don't think I want to say who it is at all. It's… well, I don't know. It's delicate,”

Jon turns to look at Robb at that. “Wait,” he says, “It's a  _ thing?” _

“He gave me his number so… I'll see where it goes?” Robb says with a shrug.

“He gave you his number?” Jon asks, torn between impressed and exasperated. “Is having normal shameful one night stands like the rest of us not good enough for you?”

Robb laughs in response, feeling bashful. Jon doesn't know how close Robb had come to dismissing last night as exactly what he has described. The note Theon had left is still in his pocket and he smiles more with the knowledge that it's there, and that there are good things on the horizon in that regard. 

“Like I said,” he replies, “It's delicate.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Delicate,” he scoffs. “Knowing you, you'll have charmed the guy into getting married in two months.”

“Oh shut up,” Robb protests, because that’s too far for even him. His tendency for falling hard and fast is pretty renowned in his circles, and he’s suffered through years and years of teasing for it, but he does have limits. 

“Not my fault you’re a goddamn Disney princess,” Jon snarks, then pulling out two movie cases and brandishing them at Robb. “Pick one. Pacific Rim or John Wick,”

Robb’s a little offended that Jon even has to ask. “Dude, John Wick,” he replies, sounding wounded. “Who do you think I am?”

“Shut up and put the movie on, Robb,” Jon retorts, but he’s grinning. They both love John Wick. There was really no competition whatsoever.

They settle in at the couch as soon as the disc is in place, already ribbing each other with years of inside jokes built up around this film franchise. Caught up in hanging out with his brother and watching Keanu Reeves kick ass and take names, Robb forgets the reason he had been so anxious to get to Jon’s apartment in the first place. His phone, still sitting in his pocket, remains uncharged.

* * *

When he finally plugs in his phone an entire three John Wick movies later, Robb has pretty much forgotten all about his prior obligations to cute boys with nice hair and even better fashion. That is, until he unlocks his phone again, and the first thing that he sees is the text conversation, still open from this morning.

“Oh god,” Robb says.

He is the worst. The  _ worst. _ He is the worst person in the world and he will be doomed to being single forever and ever. 

Looking over from the kitchen, Jon says “What’s up?”

“I forgot to text him back this morning,” Robb groans, switching his phone screen off again. He can’t bear to look at it.

Jon, the asshole, just laughs at him. 

Robb makes a wounded noise, opening his phone back up to bring the source of his woes into sight once again. He closes the app immediately.

“Oh god,” he says again, just for emphasis. “I am  _ the worst,” _

He has no idea what to say. Should he apologize profusely? Should he just reply as if no time had passed? He probably shouldn’t do that. He has no idea how texting etiquette works. Most of his time in the messaging app is dedicated to love-reacting the stuff that his siblings say in the Stark group chat. He’s out of his depth.

_ Okay, Robb Stark, breathe,  _ he thinks.  _ Pull it together. _

He opens the text messages again. He can do this. He’s going to be polite and nice because that’s his thing, and he’s going to apologize, and explain the situation, and it’ll be fine. He taps away at the keyboard with steady fingers.

**[17:02] me** **  
** Hey!   
So sorry for the late reply, my phone died this morning and I haven’t charged it up until today

He hits send. He puts the phone down.

It’s five minutes before a response comes in. A harrowing five minutes for Robb, complete with his pacing up and down the lounge room length, and Jon continuing to laugh at him, but at least it’s only five minutes.

**[17:07] theon!!!** **  
** its cool.

Okay. It’s not… the most encouraging response, but Robb powers on nonetheless. He can fix this. He can. 

**[17:07] me** **  
** How was your day?

**[17:07] theon!!!** **  
** didn’t do much   
just class   
wbu?

**[17:08] me** **  
** I hung out with Jon for most of today!   
Got so caught up that I forgot to charge my phone   
(Again sorry about that)

**[17:08] theon!!!** **  
** ah   
u two r close then?

**[17:08] me** **  
** Oh yeah!   
He’s one of my best friends   
Don’t know what I would do without him haha

**[17:08] theon!!!** **  
** aw   
arent u two just the sweetest

It makes Robb stupidly happy that Theon thinks so. Five younger siblings is a lot to deal with, and most of the people he’s met in the past have shied away somewhat after finding that fact out. He thinks that Theon mentioned having an older sister last night, so it makes sense that he’d understand Robb’s bond with his siblings. It doesn’t stop Robb from being irrationally happy over it anyway.

Before he can reply, another text comes in from Theon.

**[17:09] theon!!!** **  
** btw   
not to seem 2 eager   
but did u wanna get coffee tgt some time?

Robb, somehow, smiles  _ harder _ .

**[17:09] me** **  
** Please feel free to be eager   
As eager as you like   
I’d love that

**[17:09] theon!!!** **  
** **😜** **  
** in that case   
lets get coffee   
hows tomorrow morning at bon voyage sound?

**[17:10] me** **  
** Why   
It sounds like a date

**[17:10] theon!!!** **  
** 😋☕😘

It’s a  _ date. _

Jon takes one look at the moony expression on Robb’s face and scoffs, telling him to get out of his apartment.

As Robb concedes and agrees to leave his brother in peace, he and Theon trade snapchats. Robb has gone on his snapchat account exactly two other times, one of which was actually Sansa stealing his phone and sending snaps of him asleep at his desk, but he figures he can make exceptions for Theon. And he's glad for it. He spends most of the bus trip laughing at Theon’s increasingly exasperated snaps of him trying to get his sister’s cat out of the shower without getting mauled. 

It’s good. It’s fun, and it’s comfortable. 

Even with the promise of hanging out the next morning, Robb finds himself continuing to text Theon late into the night. It’s reassuring to him that Theon seems to be just as keen—honestly, the speed that Theon texts back at is sometimes intimidating—and by the time they both say goodnight, it’s nearing 12 am. Robb barely feels tired. He just feels… genuinely content.

Honestly, if Theon makes him feel this way all the time, he really might not be opposed to Jon’s suggestion of marriage in two months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear this chapter was meant 1) to be done days ago 2) to be about 2k shorter 3) to be mostly theon and robb bantering over text, but then jon snow came in and held me at gunpoint and demanded i give him screentime. like, i actually had to restructure my entire chapter plan because that asshole wanted bonding time with his brother. smh. and poor theon getting no reply for 6 hours bc of it as well. jon snow answer for ur crimes


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> going from writing robb’s pov to writing theon’s is like watching a sweet funny life-affirming romcom that leaves u w warm fuzzy feelings and then getting a “hey u up ;)” message on tinder

**[8:04] Unknown Number** **  
** Hey Theon. This is Sam, Jon’s roommate. He wants me to tell you that he’s got a box of your clothing at our place that he wants you to come pick up.   
He wants me to clarify that I have severely diluted what his original message was. I’m not going to repeat it, but… just so you know.

**[8:04] me** **  
** pls tell thoroughly modern jon that even if it seems outdated he can use the postal system to his full advantage and have it posted to me   
he can bill me for shipping since ik hes unemployed xx   
wait no he cant i blocked him on venmo 😊

**[8:05] Unknown Number** **  
** Jon has just finished calling you some very unsavoury things. Again, I won’t repeat them, but I will say that I might agree.

**[8:05] me** **  
** how will i ever live with myself

**[8:05] Unknown Number** **  
** lklkl;;’] **  
** fuck uou greyjoy you massive jackakjkj ; .  ‘’’/

**[8:06] me** **  
** wow sam.    
that is so rude of you to say.

**[8:06] Unknown Number** **  
** Sorry that wasn’t mpm;;e’’/   
COME OFF IT ASSHOLE

**[8:06] me** **  
** honestly im so wounded sam. there is no call to be so hurtful and rude.

Smiling, Theon puts his phone on silent and slips it into his pocket, making his way out of his room. What a way to start the morning. He’s only been awake since seven, but it’s shaping up to be a great day.

When he enters the kitchen, looking for a quick snack, Asha is in there. She’s already dressed and ready for work, and is now sitting at the counter and staring forlornly into her cup of coffee. 

Theon rolls his eyes. Asha has been trying to cut down on the amount of caffeine she drinks, and it’s mostly just resulted in Theon having to witness her early morning dramatics as she contemplates her first, and only, cup of coffee for the day.

People who say she never inherited the Greyjoy flair for dramatics are out of their minds.

Asha looks up at his approach, and Theon watches as her expression turns flat and suspicious in seconds.

“Good morning sister,” Theon greets, still feeling particularly amiable despite the hostile greeting.

“Theon,” she replies shortly. “You look awfully happy. Am I calling the cops, sending a flower basket or writing a letter of condolences?”

Theon makes a mock wounded sound. “Me being happy is an occasion that calls for none of those things,” he protests, moving towards the counter. He reaches out to grab an apple from the fruit bowl and crunches down on it, keeping eye contact with Asha all the while. 

Asha raises an eyebrow. “You being this upbeat always comes at considerable cost for others. I just hope it was only somebody’s day being ruined, and not something big, like libel or murder.”

“Hmm,” Theon says around his mouthful of apple. “You say that like libel or murder wouldn’t ruin somebody’s day.”

“Oh shut up,” Asha snaps back. “Murder’s about to ruin your day,”

Theon laughs. “Drink your coffee, Asha,” he chides. “And don’t worry. I can assure you no libel or murder has occured this morning. I’m about to head off on a date.”

Asha immediately sets her coffee cup down, and it's so genuinely shocking to see that Theon almost gapes.

“A date?” she asks, her eyes narrowed.

“A date,” Theon repeats slowly, unsure of why his sister is acting even weirder than usual. She has been the one encouraging him to move on from the whole Jon situation, after all. He just happens to be killing two birds with one stone.

“You don't go on dates,” Asha says, borderline accusatory. 

Theon frowns at her. Of the many things Asha has had to say his love life, that is definitely a new angle to take.

“I go on dates?” he says, voice raising at the end of the sentence. “I go on dates all the time? You're usually telling me to stop whoring around and going on dates,”

“No,” Asha says, shaking her head. “You do not go on dates. You do three am booty calls, or party hookups, or nights out in town, but not  _ dates,”  _

Theon realizes, with indignance, that she may have a point. The realization comes seconds before he decides to stick to his guns regardless. Asha has no place to be commenting on how he goes about dealing with romance; after her latest bad breakup, she’s been going through a string of hookups who  _ all  _ have platinum blonde hair and annoying smirks. Honestly, Theon’s track record is better than hers.

He says “I totally go on dates. You just don’t pay enough attention,” with a huff. With a definite increased viciousness, he bites into his apple again. 

Sure, whatever, maybe  _ historically, _ he has tried to avoid any shows of commitment or care, but this time is different. Not like it’s any of Asha’s business, or that she even knows, but this time it’s in the name of revenge, which takes precedence over any historical trends. He’s got a game plan, and even if it calls for dating, he’s damn well sticking to it.

Asha scoffs, but decides she has nothing further to say on the topic. Theon’s honestly a little offended she isn’t asking who it is, or where he’s going, or any of the fun, important details, but he supposes he expects too much.

With the perceived high ground, and an apple, in grasp, he decides to leave Asha to her brooding and return to his bedroom. He still has to figure out his outfit; in his last overhaul, he ended up merging his  _ brunch clothing _ category with his  _ picnic clothing. _ Looking back, he kind of regrets it. He’s certainly not about to wear a plaid ascot to a café date, even if it’s the perfect picnic accessory; it’ll be a bit more work to figure out the right outfit with the change.

Oh well. He’s at least assured in the knowledge that Robb, good-looking as he is, isn’t about to outdress him. Especially if one of his siblings manages to find another horrendous shirt for him. 

If the guy wears something like that on the date, Theon is going to call off this entire thing, revenge or no.

* * *

Robb does not wear anything like that on the date. 

Far from it. 

Theon’s already seated, having gotten here early, so he gets treated to the full show when Robb makes his way into the café. It’s a neat, simple ensemble; simple yet undeniably effective, considering how Theon has to take in a breath when he first sees.

Robb’s wearing a white turtleneck layered under a black bomber jacket, with black jeans and white sneakers to complete the outfit. Theon is genuinely impressed; the monochromatics are balanced well, with neither shade overwhelming the other, and it’s neither overly dressy or overly casual.

And even without the good outfit, the way Robb looks, the way he’s smiling, the way he waves as he walks towards Theon: it all makes something twist sharply inside of him.

Feeling a little like he’s staring into the sun, Theon meets Robb’s gaze and waves back at him. He reminds himself to smile. He says, hoping his voice is steady, “So he has a fashion sense after all. Hey there, Robb Stark.”

Robb laughs, his entire face lighting up as he slides into the opposite seat. He says “Hello, Theon Greyjoy. Were you waiting long?”

Theon shakes his head. “Not really. I walked here, so I gave myself a lot of time,”

Robb nods, keeping eye contact with Theon and giving him a small smile. It’s… honestly disconcerting, the way Robb seems to be paying intent attention to everything Theon says. The scrutiny would be scary, if it wasn’t so gentle.

A little unbalanced, Theon says “I haven’t ordered anything yet either, if you wanted to order together?”

“Sure! Do you know what you want? I can pay for us both,” Robb says, reaching for a menu. 

Theon snorts. Of course good, stand up, chivalrous guy Robb Stark wants to cover the bill.

“We can split it,” Theon says, “I promise I’m not some blushing maiden who you need to court the  _ proper _ way,”

Robb laughs. 

It strikes Theon how loud it is. Not in an obnoxious way. In an unapologetic way. Everything about Robb is a little loud—though it might be more appropriate to say bright. It’s impossible to not notice him, and Theon finds himself paying attention. He finds himself looking, just to look.

It’s a strange feeling.

Robb says “Considering how our first meeting went down, I think the time for  _ proper courting _ is a little past,”

He’s trying to be teasing, to be coquettish, but Theon can see a faint blush on his cheeks. The sight hits Theon hard; Robb’s embarrassment makes the comment fluster him more than the teasing ever would’ve on its own, providing a sincerity to the words that he has no idea how to react to. 

Robb is kind of really bad at this whole flirting thing. He’s also, somehow, really good at it.

Looking down, Theon says “You have a point. I’ll have an iced soy latte, and the banana waffles,”

He pulls out his wallet, ready with some cash that he withdrew earlier when something stops him. 

Robb stops him, specifically, by laying his hand on top of Theon’s.

Theon looks up at him, wide-eyed. Robb is suddenly a lot closer, and a lot handsomer, and touching Theon’s hand with his own large and warm one.

“Seriously, I meant it,” Robb says, apparently perfectly fine with the change in proximity and sudden intimacy. “I’ll cover the bill. Consider it payback for not replying to your messages for so long yesterday,”

Theon doesn’t quite know what to do with Robb that close and staring at him that intently, so he just nods.

Besides, it’s not like Robb is wrong. Being ignored for hours on end after being left in the  _ middle of a conversation _ stung enough at it is, and then Robb had to go and tell Theon that it was because of Jon. Theon deserves financial and emotional reparations for that.

Robb smiles and then finally pulls back, removing his hand from Theon’s. He takes out his own wallet and picks up the menu, and then Theon’s alone, left to deal with the aftermath of whatever that was. 

He breathes in, staring at his hands. He can’t remember the last time somebody had just… reached out and touched him, without invitation or prompt. He already doesn’t like to initiate casual contact with others as it is, and the people he spends the most time with in his life act like he’s carrying the plague most of the time; Asha is more allergic to intimacy than he is, and Jon can barely— _ could  _ barely—stand his presence most of the time.

He mulls over it. It had been kind of weird, but Robb seems like somebody who just does that kind of thing, and once Theon got used to the fact that it was happening, he didn’t mind it. Yeah, alright. It’s not bad. He comes to the conclusion that he is thrown off guard but… he doesn’t feel awful about it.

Theon concludes this just as Robb comes back, which is perfect timing, because it means he’s completely clear on his stance on the matter when Robb reaches out and brushes his fingers against his hair braid.

“Did you do this yourself?” Robb asks, voice full of wonder.

Theon nods and braces himself for some comment about his masculinity or whatever, but all Robb does is nod in return and lean in closer.

“Can I—sorry, can I touch it? I should’ve asked earlier, but it’s just amazing,”

Theon tries to find something to say, but Robb is once again closer to him, once again reaching out, and it takes a lot for him to not flinch away.

Quietly, he manages to reply “Go for it,”

Robb completes his motion, fingers once again brushing against Theon’s hair. It’s honestly a little bizarre, but Robb is smiling as he studies the braid, tracing each loop and turning it around once in his hands. It’s also kind of nice. Theon has never been faced with so many opposing emotions in his life.

When Robb leans back, he murmurs “Half-up French braid, huh? I’m jealous, honestly,”

Theon watches Robb smile at him, looks at the way Robb’s curls fall and tumble and tousle, the way they perfectly frame his features and complement his eyes, and he has no idea what Robb can be jealous about. 

“Why so?” he asks, his voice still a little quiet. Robb gives a little self-deprecating laugh and runs his hands through his hair. Theon follows the motion the entire way.

“My little sister has been trying to teach me to braid her hair for years, but I’m rubbish at it,” Robb replies. “Did you learn to do that from your sister?”

Theon snorts. He laughs a little. He shakes his head. “God, fuck no. If I tried to braid Asha’s hair I think she’d kill me,” he says, sending a dry smile Robb’s way. “I learnt this on my own,”

Robb, looking as earnest as the puppy that Theon’s next-door neighbours have, says “That’s amazing! Have you always had long hair?”

The answer to that is no, but all of the parts of Theon’s life where he didn’t have long hair are parts he likes to pretend doesn’t exist, so he answers “Yeah, pretty much,”. 

Robb beams at him. Robb seems to beam at him after everything he says. Theon, in turn, finds himself smiling more at Robb too. Not that he wasn’t smiling before, because he’s always smiling, but Robb easily pulls out genuine smiles that Theon doesn’t even realize he’s making half the time. 

The conversation flows from there, uninterrupted even when their food and drinks arrive. Robb steals Theon’s waffles without reservation, and Theon finds that he doesn’t mind. In turn, Robb offers Theon some of his food, and the gesture makes him feel strangely included in something he’s never quite experienced before.

Robb is just so… friendly. So familiar. He acts like he and Theon have known each other for ages now, and the worst part is that Theon finds himself going along with it. He almost finds himself agreeing with the sentiment, as Robb details his misadventures in dealing with his siblings and Theon follows up with his own wild stories—always about Asha, of course, because he’s not about to tell Robb about the others on the first date.

Still, the fact that Theon is talking this much at all is strange. This entire situation is strange. Robb is, in all honesty, the kind of person Theon would probably irrationally hate, but he’s too busy being fascinated by everything the guy does to even consider it. 

Marvel in motion, Robb Stark.

And so Theon, who likes to obsessively categorize his clothing, Theon who spends half of his time wishing he was somewhere else, Theon who hates being around most people, ends up losing track of the time. 

He’s the idiot, really, for scheduling a date when he has a prior commitment later in the day, but it’s just habit by now. He doesn’t exactly know anything about going on dates, and he usually cross-schedules to give him hard outs for any given hangout.

He can’t believe it, but he wishes that his time with Robb could go longer, even as he looks at the reminder he set in his phone for his university class.

“Shit,” he says, “I have to get to uni,”

He looks up just in time to catch Robb’s face visibly fall, which is as cute as it is touching.

“Do you?” Robb asks, and the look on his face makes Theon want to say no. 

He says “Yeah, it totally slipped my mind that I had class today,” and finds that he sounds sincerely disappointed.

Robb sighs and says “Alright then,”. 

He looks away from Theon, which gives Theon full reign to stare at him. And he stares. Theon stares at him and has to fight very, very hard against the urge to say something absurd, like  _ no, I’m staying _ or  _ sneak into my class with me _ or  _ let’s ditch this entire city and sail around the world together. _

Then Robb looks back up and catches Theon’s gaze. Theon freezes but he doesn’t look away, and Robb doesn’t shy away from his perusal either; they both just look at each other, and keep looking at each other.

Theon blurts “This was really nice,” at the same time Robb says “We should do this again,”. 

In the silence that follows, they both burst out laughing; Robb’s blushing, and Theon knows if he was any weaker of a man he would be blushing too. It’s ridiculous, but if this entire date has done anything, it’s forced Theon to reassess what his feelings towards ridiculousness are, so he goes with it.

Eventually, he knows he has to leave, so he stands up in his seat. Robb rises with him, a fond smile on his face that Theon can’t look away from.

“Have fun at uni,” Robb says.

Theon replies “Can’t be as much fun as I had with you, but I’ll try,” and basks in the way Robb laughs afterwards. Robb’s a really receptive audience to any of Theon’s jokes, no matter how bland they are, and it makes Theon want to keep him laughing forever. Or something cheesy like that.

Theon then says “This is farewell then, Robb Stark,” because he knows if he stands here and watches Robb laugh for a second longer he’ll never leave. He goes to start moving, but doesn’t get the chance to take a step, because Robb reaches out. 

“Wait,” Robb says, a hand wrapped around Theon’s forearm. He steps closer to Theon, his face suddenly serious. “Can I tell you a secret?” he says, and anything that Theon was going to say dries up on his tongue. Theon feels like something in the air’s changed, and he’s not sure how to handle it.

He nods, trying to keep from looking too wide-eyed.

Robb leans in and says softly “My sister picked out the outfit for me,”. Then he’s leaning back, a cheeky smile on his face.

Completely unbidden, a grin spreads on Theon’s face. He’s too taken off guard and helplessly endeared to really fix or modify it in any way; it’s a real smile, and Robb seems to brighten at the sight. 

Fuck, Theon doesn’t know how this guy manages to catch him unawares with every second word. He fights against it, but he’s suddenly ridiculously happy as they stand in the café and grin at each other.

He says “Your sister did a very good job, but the clothes are only as good as the person wearing them,”, accompanying it with a wink. Robb laughs again, and it’s a surprisingly sweet sound, almost bashful, as a blush spreads across his face.

Before he can quite think it through, Theon says “I’ll see you again?”. He sounds hopeful. He feels hopeful.

Robb smiles, something softer this time. It reminds Theon of fairy lights strung up in a garden, a soft glow that instantly makes him feel warmer for some reason.

Robb says “See you again, Theon,” and sounds very, very sure about it. Theon, despite himself, feels sure about it too.

Before Robb can pull any more of his freaky allure magic and make Theon do something he regrets, Theon starts walking away. He can’t stop the smile from forming on his face, however, as he turns his back on Robb and leaves the café. He can’t stop the smile even as he boards the bus to university, or even as he arrives at his campus, or even as he walks into his classroom ten minutes late. 

He can’t stop smiling at all, and really, that should’ve been the first sign for Theon to run while he still could.

* * *

They talk throughout his classes. Theon pays absolutely no attention the entire day; he loves his course, but he’s never been so captivated by something than by Robb’s play-by-play of somebody at his internship getting fired.

He goes home fighting a grin, an actual sincere grin, the entire way. When he walks through the door, he almost ignores Asha because he’s too busy scrolling back through his and Robb’s conversation and basking in the giddy feeling it gives him.

“How was the date?” Asha calls, somehow sounding disinterested all the while. Theon looks up at her and tries to find something to say, some succint way to summarize possibly the most fun two hours of his life.

In the end, he just kind of helplessly smiles and says “Pretty fucking good,”

Asha stares at him.

He returns her stare for about two seconds, and then his phone buzzes with a text from Robb, and Theon’s attention is diverted.

**[16:19] 🍆🍽️🌹** **  
** Finally off work!!!   
Are you out of classes?

**[16:19] me** **  
** just got home   
got rained on while walking 😷😷😷

Apparently ignoring the fact that Theon clearly is attending to more important things, Asha says “Right. Um… good for you,”

He turns away from her, heading towards the kitchen to find something to eat. 

Asha adds “There are leftovers in the fridge, if you want any,”. Theon makes a vague noise of assent, pulling open the fridge and finding the pasta that they had made last night. 

He grabs a fork and pulls off the clingwrap, deciding to forgo heating it up. In his correct and indisputable opinion, cold pasta is amazing, no matter how many times Asha calls him a heathen for it.

When he turns back towards the dining table, he sees her make a face at him. “Weirdo,” she scoffs.

He shovels some more pasta in his mouth in response. His phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where he had left it, and he whirls around immediately, setting down the bowl of pasta to pick it up.

**[16:23] 🍆🍽️🌹** **  
** Did you have an umbrella?   
Don’t get sick   
😷🚫☹️☹️

**[16:24] me** **  
** lol who tf carries around umbrellas   
i brave the elements like a real man

**[16:24] 🍆🍽️🌹** **  
** I always have an umbrella **  
** Real men take care of their health!!! 💉

Theon snorts. Robb’s emoji usage is terrible, yet he somehow finds it kind of cute, which is something he’s only comfortable admitting in the safety of his own head. It’s like texting an overexcited nine year old. Or a confused 59 year old. He hasn’t quite placed it yet.

Over on the dining table, Asha clears her throat. It annoys Theon for about two seconds, because she’s being weirdly demanding of his attention today, before he remembers that his older sister likes to take an interest in his life or whatever happy family bullshit it is, and that he should just humour her.

“Do you need something?” He asks dryly. Just because he’s humouring her doesn’t mean he needs to give the impression he enjoys it.

She makes a gesture towards his phone. “Is that them?”

Theon nods, suddenly having to tamp down the smile that threatens to spread across his face. Sure, he smiles all the time, but he is  _ not  _ a fan of how Robb seems to just pull them out of him. He likes to have his control and composure intact. It gets him further in life than being genuine does.

“You seem pretty…” Asha starts. She pauses, and the constipated expression on her face tells Theon that she’s trying to find something to say. Eventually, she settles on a doubtful “Enthusiastic?”

Theon has to stop and think about that one. He’s gone through most of his life with a strong, and possibly unhealthy sense of negativity, apathy and general distaste for everything, and Asha has been a prime witness to it. After all, he learnt pretty early on that life just kinda sucks. You find ways to deal with it, but it still just kinda sucks. 

He approaches everything in his life, whether it be his work or his university or his relationships, with the expectation that shit is going to go wrong eventually. It keeps him grounded.

Somehow, Robb manages to make him forget his pervading sense of existential pessimism. Every time he gets a text from Robb, something jumps inside of him, and he goes rushing towards his phone without any reservation or second thought.

Oh god. Theon realizes. Shit, he  _ is _ enthusiastic. He’s genuinely… excited, or something. Like he’s still a naive toddler who hasn’t been jaded by the constant current of shittiness that the world has to offer or something. 

The shock of his revelation must show on his face, because Asha exhales and says “Yeah,  _ exactly. _ ”

Theon takes a moment from his stupor to think about how fucking sad it is that both he and Asha are surprised that he’s genuinely enthusiastic over something.

Right, back to being shocked.

“Asha,” he says, his voice flat. “Am I having feelings?”

Asha frowns at him. “Are you?”

His phone vibrates. Theon looks down to his hand to see that Robb has texted him a picture of his dog, Grey Wind, wrapped in a towel with the caption  _ Even Grey Wind is keeping dry!!! _

Unable to help himself, he smiles. Then he catches himself, and looks back up at Asha with wide eyes.

“Oh my god,” she says, looking concerned. “You’re having feelings. Who are you and what have you done with my little brother?”

She has a point. Theon doesn’t know how to go about explaining that Robb Stark has actual magical powers that make him irrepressibly lovely and universally likeable. Well, actually, that is a very succint explanation, he just doesn’t think he could possibly live down telling that to Asha.

Gathering his shellshocked pieces of dignity, his phone, and his pasta, he says “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.”

It’s four pm. He’s an idiot.

Asha just stares at him as he walks away, and it isn’t until he closes his door firmly behind him that he can relax, and properly freak out.

He’s having feelings. Is he really having feelings?

Sure, he keeps thinking about how the lights at that café had bounced off of Robb’s light hair, making it look almost floaty, and sure, he looks forward to every text Robb sends him, even if it’s the most inane shit ever, and  _ sure, _ he touches his hair sometimes just because he likes to remember how Robb had done so earlier. That doesn’t mean anything.

Theon bravely maintains this position for about fifteen seconds, before it all collapses in on itself because even if he’s good at lying to himself, he’s not  _ that _ good.

“Oh my god,” he says. “I’m having feelings.”

There’s some vague shuffling from outside, and then Asha’s muffled voice says “I made you tea.”

He doesn’t want her condolences tea. He opens the door and accepts the cup anyway, because he’s not turning away tea, even if it’s made out of misplaced pity. He’s an adult and he doesn’t need a cup of tea to make himself feel better about the fact that he’s having feelings like a ten year old or something. 

He says “Just so you know, I don’t need your sympathy tea. I’m just taking this because it’d be a waste otherwise,”

Asha, who has somehow returned to her seat at the dining table and returned to her normal emotional equilibrium, looks over him and gives him a grin. 

“Sure, sure, little brother,” she coos, because she’s a patronizing asshole who he is only sort of grateful for.

Theon nods at her and slams his door shut.

His phone, still in his hand even after all of this, vibrates again.

**[16:30] 🍆🍽️🌹** **  
** Did you know this is the longest you’ve gone without texting me back in the middle of a convo

Theon stares at the message for a long time. 

He has no fucking clue how Robb manages to be so open and unashamed. Theon knows he’d rather burn his wardrobe or cut off a finger than ever directly bring up reply time in a conversation. Especially if he’s the one who has been left on read. Robb is unbelievable.

**[16:32] me** **  
** i do have a life outside of texting u ykno

**[16:32] 🍆🍽️🌹** **  
** Haha    
Is any of it as fun as texting me though?

The short answer is no. It really isn’t. And even though he has just been freaking out over this whole  _ feelings  _ thing, and specifically the feelings that Robb makes him feel, he lets Robb ease him back into a conversation. They settle back into their rhythm, and text back and forth throughout the night even as Theon attempts to do his homework, and Robb goes to help with dinner, and they both get ready to sleep.

They say their goodnights, and when Theon wakes up the next morning, the first thing he sees on his phone is a good morning text from Robb, complete with a picture of his dog. Theon doesn’t even like dogs that much. He’s harboured dreams for years of curating the most beautiful aquarium the world has ever seen, full of tropical fish and coral and seaweed, but apart from that, he’s ambivalent to most pets.

He still finds the pictures of Grey Wind incredibly endearing. He starts his morning grinning, and can’t quite keep the grin off of his face for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theon's whipped lol. this was gonna be like twice the length but i had to cut it in half dkjsdsd. sorry for the wait i just finished my uni sem


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for somebody who is an only child i sure spend half of my chapters writing sibling interaction huh

The problem with his siblings growing up, apart from the absolutely dread-inducing fact that _they’re growing up,_ is that Robb can no longer get away with half the shit he used to. Not when the Stark household is one characterized by vicious nosiness, constant suspicion, and gleeful betrayal. He really has nobody to blame but himself for not being prepared for the moment Arya and Bran storm into the living room.

“Robb Stark!” Arya half-shouts. Robb winces. It’s barely nine am in the morning, and woe befalls the person who wakes up Ned Stark on his rare sleep-in days.

Bran, following behind, gives off the air of more composure, but Robb knows the truth. He’s just as worked up as Arya is.

With a rueful sigh, he settles in for an eventful morning.

“Good morning, Bran, Arya,” he greets, still fond despite the rather abrupt greeting. 

They both chorus back _good morning,_ which is reassuring; even if they’re planning to interrogate him to the death, they still have the sense to have manners.

Then, like a switch has been flipped, they both go on the offensive.

“You’ve been hiding something from us,” Arya accuses. She has her arms crossed and she’s the picture of preteen defiance, waiting for Robb to make the wrong move so she can throw him to the wolves. Or something like that. Robb will acknowledge that he tends to overdramatize when it comes to his siblings.

Bran chimes in then, fortifying the accusation. Robb’s almost proud of their teamwork. “You spend ages outside of the house, even after your work or uni has finished. You smile or laugh to yourself all the time like there’s a joke only you get. You keep going through your wardrobe as if it isn’t going to have the same six things you’ve been wearing for years in it. Something’s up.”

All of those things are… very normal for a young adult with a decent social life to be doing, in all honesty, and Robb allows himself a little self-pity at the fact that they’re out of character for him. It’s a little bit sad that him showing the symptoms of having friends is enough to warrant a questioning. Just a little bit.

Robb, already regretting ever letting this conversation happen, says “You know that is all very ordinary behaviour, right?”

Arya rolls her eyes. “Sure, but not for _you,”_ she says, derisive and completely sure of herself. Ouch. 

Robb almost winces, but he’s pretty practiced at keeping it together in front of his younger siblings, so all he does is sigh. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, he realizes. 

See, this thing he has with Theon at the moment… he honestly likes that he can keep it to himself. It’s only been two or three weeks of knowing each other, but he gets along with Theon in a way that he only does with very few people. 

It’s thrilling, having Theon as—not a secret, but something that is entirely his own. It’s thrilling to know that when he laughs at something Theon says, there’s nobody else in the world but Theon who can understand. It’s thrilling to know that after a week of being intensely alone with each other, the time still flies whenever they’re together.

He hasn’t completely kept it under wraps; he’s told Jon some things here and there, and Sansa is aware that there is somebody and that things are happening, but Robb doesn’t quite feel ready to share this happiness with the world yet.

Quietly, he suspects that one of the reasons, a major reason, that his and Jeyne’s relationship had gone downhill was how quickly they were pushed into the spotlight. It had been… very fast. And at the time, he hadn’t thought to question it. He loved her—they had been in _love,_ and he can’t bring himself to regret any of it, but he realizes now that the outside scrutiny most likely rushed them to the bloody end. Their families had been watching from the beginning, offering opinions on a relationship that none of them could truly understand, because they weren’t Robb, and they weren’t Jeyne.

He doesn’t want a repeat of that. Not at all. He’s learned his lessons, and he loves his family, he _does,_ but there are some things about him they don’t need a say in. Not yet, at least.

Arya, apparently having run out of patience, stomps her foot and demands “Well? Spit it out! What have you been hiding?”

Having made up his mind, Robb needs to find a way to end this conversation, and quickly. He’s not the eldest for no reason, however, and having five siblings has definitely honed his skills over the years. When banded together, any combination of his siblings is terrifying: that’s _only_ when banded together, however.

Affecting defeat, he groans and says “I’m sorry, I have been hiding something. I know it’s not right for me to keep it under wraps anymore,”

Both of his siblings seem to lean in, eyes bright with anticipation. Robb almost smiles. 

He says “Arya, I saw Bran run over that paper craft your friend gave you last week. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you immediately—I’ve been all out of sorts because of it. I’m so glad it’s off my chest now,”

Honestly, he does feel bad, watching the way the colour drains out of Bran’s face, and the way Arya’s eyes light up with fury.

_“What?!”_ she screeches, turning on Bran and jabbing a finger at him. _“You swore on Summer that you didn’t do it!”_

Bran immediately yells back, because not a single person in this house knows how to effectively descalate conflict. “You shouldn’t have left it on the loungeroom floor!”

Arya looks ready to descend upon Bran with the fury of a wronged goddess, her face flushed with rage. Robb feels bad. He does. He just doesn’t feel bad _enough,_ which is why he begins edging towards the door.

It had been quite the incident, the night Arya discovered that her recent prized possession, the paper craft bird that her art club captain had given her, mercilessly flattened. Accusations were had. Fingers were pointed. Tears were shed. 

Robb, on merit of having spent the night out of the house, had been safe from the fallout. Nobody else had been spared. Arya is a force of nature, and the Stark dinners had been tense for a few days afterwards. 

_“You fucking traitor!”_ Arya screams at Bran again, and oh my _god,_ she’s _thirteen,_ _how does she know what that word means,_ Robb seriously _might cry._

He’s just about bring the attention back onto him by cutting in with his sobbing over Arya and her loss of innocence when inside the kitchen, a voice booms out.

“Arya Stark!” his mother thunders. “Watch your language!”

Arya, never one to back down, shouts back “Bran is dead to me and I hate this family!”

Bran puts his face in his hands and yells, his voice muffled, “Oh my god, the bird wasn’t even that good anyway!”

Robb makes a run for it. 

He’s never, ever, ever doing anything like that again. He hadn’t been prepared for the consequences.

**[9:19] me** **  
** Dude  
My family is so DRAMATIC

**[9:20] theon!!!** **  
** lol  
i could easily top u when it comes to family dramatics

**[9:20] me** **  
** Bet

* * *

The conversation goes on from there, and keeps going, even as Robb gets ready for his university classes. It’s marvelous, how easily Theon slides into Robb’s life. 

Robb only realizes how many gaps there were, time that seemed to just pass him by, now that he has somebody there to fill the time. They've had three more dates after that first one, but they haven’t seen each other in a while; Robb has been dealing with some big events at his internship that require a lot more time than he likes, and on Theon’s part, he’s been running between full-time university and two jobs. It’s ridiculous. And very impressive. There’s nobody to blame for the lack of contact, and they’ve still been talking non-stop. Robb is just a little sad.

So when the text comes through, with Theon asking if he wants to meet up later that night, Robb immediately says yes. He has an early university class the next morning, but he’s willing to make sacrifices, because he misses Theon.

He really misses Theon, which strikes him as silly, because it’s still only been half a month, but it’s how he feels. There’s something about Theon that makes being around him a dream; Robb never feels so content as when he’s with Theon. Theon is completely untouched by everything else that has defined Robb’s life so far; Theon doesn’t know about his family, or his status, or his history with Jeyne, and while Robb has never been ashamed of these things persay, they have dictated him. 

Theon brings an escape from his life that Robb didn’t know he needed, and every moment that he spends lacking that freedom is almost agonizing.

Theon asks to call. Robb immediately comes into awareness of how much he misses Theon’s dry and constantly amused voice. 

He says yes. Of course he says yes. He’s sitting in his carpark in the parking lot at university, the sun is barely peeking through the clouds of the afternoon, and he can’t think of anything he wants to do more. 

He picks up on the first ring and says, his voice trembling with the contained happiness, “Hello, Theon Greyjoy.”

_“Hi, Robb Stark,”_ Theon says back, and Robb starts to grin already. Theon sounds a little out of breath, and also like he’s whispering. Robb wonders where he is. As far as he knows, Theon doesn’t usually take the afternoon shifts at the café he works at, but Robb doesn’t know what his second job is. Maybe he’s there now? 

_“Be free at 6pm tonight,”_ Theon says, so self-assured that Robb will do as he says. It’s cute. A little exasperating, but cute. Theon switches between expecting nothing from people, and then expecting everything from them. Robb only recognizes it because Jon sometimes acted the same way when he was younger—preparing himself for disappointment at every turn, and covering this up by demanding everything of everybody. 

Honestly, Theon and Jon have a lot of similar traits. Robb thinks they’d get along grandly, if they ever started talking more. Maybe he should look into that.

Returning his thoughts to the conversation at hand, Robb teases “Anything his majesty orders, of course,”

Theon laughs in response, a melodious sound that makes Robb sink a little further back into his seat with something that feels a lot like adoration. God, even by his standards, he’s falling pretty ridiculously quickly. It’d maybe help if Theon wasn’t the most charmingly derisive person Robb’s had the pleasure of meeting, but then again, that’s half the reason Robb likes him so much. 

“What do you have planned?” he asks.

_“Mmm,”_ Theon hums, _“it’s a secret. Just be at the Forum at 6, okay?”_

“The Forum? Are we going to a concert?” Robb asks. Over the phone, Theon’s sigh is fairly distorted, but Robb likes to think that he can hear the fondness in it.

_“I said it was a secret, didn’t I?”_ Theon says, tone dripping with exaggerated exasperation. Robb thinks if they were together in person, Theon would be rolling his eyes or poking his tongue out, all to hide the fact that he wants to smile. 

It makes Robb miss him even more. Theon is always so fun to watch, to figure out. His surface expressions and emotions always hide something underneath, and Robb’s been working hard at trying to decipher every layer, filled with joy every time he manages to get it right.

“Alright, alright,” Robb concedes. He trusts Theon enough to know it’ll be a good time, at least. “Where are you right now?”

There’s some shuffling, and footsteps that Robb takes to mean Theon is moving location. He hears the click of a door. 

When the line quietens again, Theon huffs out _“I’m in a supply closet.”_ His tone turns considering. _“Can’t see shit, but it seems unused. Enough dust that it’s like an asthma attack waiting to happen. Cosy overall. Six out of ten,”_

Robb laughs. Theon’s ridiculous; Robb wants to kiss the stupid smile he probably has on his face right now. 

Robb says “That’s higher than I would expect, honestly,”

_“If only you were here, so I could show you just how cosy it is,”_ Theon replies, his voice dropping low with suggestion. Robb imagines the way Theon’s eyebrows would be waggling as he stares at Robb, the childish gesture a sharp contrast with his gaze like molten steel. 

The image makes Robb smile as much as it makes him flush, and he responds “Theon, there is literally nothing appealing about getting it on in a supply closet.” A lie, but Theon isn’t here to call Robb out on it.

_“I think you just aren’t creative enough, Robb,”_ Theon replies, but his tone has settled back into amused fondness again. Probably a good thing, because Robb isn’t exactly keen on getting turned on while sitting in his car in the carpark at university, and that was definitely what the end result would’ve been had Theon kept going down that route.

Instead, they settle into easy conversation. Theon’s on break at work right now, Robb discovers, but before he can interrogate this mysterious second job further they get caught up in discussing family dinners, group projects and pet fish—the conversation just keeps going and going.

Robb is willing to admit that he’s a bit far gone, as he imagines the way Theon reacts to everything that’s said, each expression that would cross Theon’s lovely features, the way his mouth would shape every word. 

Robb’s been told he has a staring problem, and it’s true, it really is, but he can’t bring himself to fix it. Every moment he spends staring at Theon and studying Theon and committing Theon to memory is another piece of information he can file away, another addition to his mental catelogue of all things Theon Greyjoy. And all his staring means that when Theon isn’t around for him to watch, Robb can still easily recall his image, his unassuming smiles, his flashy smirks. 

It makes the phone conversation more enjoyable than it already is, and the only thing that stymies the disappointment he feels when Theon’s break ends is that they’re about to meet in two hours anyway.

_“See you, Robb. Dress nicely, okay?”_ Theon says, his tone half-coy. 

Robb rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight the grin on his face. “For you, Theon, I always do,” he says.

* * *

Robb arrives at the venue at 5:50pm, because that’s the kind of person he was raised to be. Theon isn’t outside to meet him—in fact, he can’t see anybody in the general vicinity of the area, and for a moment Robb wonders if he’s in the wrong place. However, the front doors are open, so Robb figures he should go in even if he can’t hear anybody inside either.

When he steps in, he comes face to face with somebody sitting at a table and looking supremely bored. She’s scrolling through her phone, and jerks a little in her seat when Robb clears his throat.

“Oh!” she says, trying to look put together as she hastily puts her phone away. “You’re—” she glances at the clock beside them, and then back at Robb.

“Hi,” Robb says carefully, suddenly aware that he has no idea what he’s doing here.

She offers him a confused, but somewhat encouraging smile. “Hi! Can I see your ticket?”

Robb blinks at her and tries to fend off the impending dread. A ticket? He doesn’t have a ticket. He can’t remember if Theon had mentioned anything about tickets when he told Robb to come here; no, Robb’s certain that there had been no mention of them. Is he supposed to buy one at the door? Maybe Theon already has them, and Robb has inadvertently embarrassed himself by arriving early and going in without Theon.

He’s about to apologize profusely and retreat to the safety of the deserted exterior of the venue when a familiar voice rings out.

“It’s cool, Jackie,” Theon calls as he walks over. 

Relief washes over Robb as he watches Theon approach, returning the wave that Theon gives him with a giddy smile.

Theon steps past the table and throws an arm around Robb, and Robb realizes that for all his imagining only a few hours ago, it’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“He’s with me,” Theon tells Jackie, who is now rolling her eyes and waving them both in. Robb feels like glowing at the phrasing. Yeah, he’s with Theon.

“Yes, yes” she snorts, “have fun with your nepotism.” Theon winks at her and guides Robb inside, past a second set of doors that open up into the stage venue.

“Good timing,” Robb says, wrapping an arm around Theon’s waist. “I was about to panic,”

Theon snorts, turning his head to smile at Robb. “I could tell,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You looked like you were about to make a run for it,”

“I was,” Robb says, unashamed of how petulant he sounds. He’s the eldest of six siblings; he has to take the chance to be childish _somewhere_. “You threw me in there blind!”

Theon grins, rogueish and utterly charming. He points out “And I came to save you just in time, didn’t I?”

Robb has nothing to say in return, so he leans in to kiss the stupid smile on Theon’s face like he’s been wanting to for hours now, and revels in how Theon leans in right away. Theon tastes like sea salt; he always does, like he’s a mermaid taken to shore just to fall into Robb’s arms. 

Robb finds that he couldn’t care less that they’re standing in the middle of the locale; he just wants to kiss Theon, and keep kissing him.

And then a voice breaks through the moment with “Fraternizing on the job, Greyjoy?”

To Robb’s great and utter disappointment, Theon pulls away. Shifting so that they’re standing side by side again, the only consolation that Theon’s arm still around Robb, they turn to face the owner of the voice.

Theon, smug and smiling, says “Jealous it’s not you, Mallister?”

The stranger, something Mallister, laughs. “Hardly,” he says, “Not when you’re so easy,”

Theon laughs too, no rebuttal at all, and Robb tries not to chafe too much at the blatant… well, _flirting,_ that’s what it is, that’s happening. He and Theon have known each other under three weeks. Slept together once, gone on four dates, and made out a few times since then, but still. Not even yet a month. 

Besides, he’s the one who Theon has an arm around and who Theon is leaning into, a fact that something Mallister’s gaze seems to be pretty fixated on. Bolstered by how Theon hasn’t pulled away at all, Robb meets the stranger’s gaze. He tries to look somewhat challenging, but it’s overtaken by his instinct to be nice to people he’s just met, so he ends up awkwardly smiling at the guy.

Something Mallister blinks at him, but smiles back. 

“Robb, this is Patrek,” Theon says, gesturing in the other person’s direction. “Patrek, this is Robb.”

The now named Patrek Mallister nods his head at Robb. As he does, his smile turns into more of a leer, and he says “So you’re the reason Theon’s been skipping out on work to hide in supply closets,”

Robb isn’t sure whether that’s something to be proud of, but he feels the corresponding rush of pleasure anyway, which only increases when he turns and sees how Theon has flushed pink, nose scrunching up at Patrek.

“Shut up and go do your job,” Theon snaps. The blush makes him look inordinately cute. Robb bites back a smile, because he knows Theon will get even more pissy if he catches the expression.

Patrek, now looking incredibly amused, salutes and says “Sure thing, boss. Nice meeting you, Robb.” He winks at Robb, a gesture which Robb doesn’t know how to respond to, and then turns and wanders towards the stage.

Robb turns to Theon again, who is still blushing and obstinately trying to pretend he isn’t, and he has to smile this time. Upon seeing the expression, Theon looks even more constipated, just as Robb had predicted he would.

“You shouldn’t skip work because of me,” Robb tells him, unabashedly happy. Theon scowls, which makes him look ridiculous when paired with his dark red blush.

“You’re right,” Theon huffs, “because it’s obvious my coworkers are all useless little gossips who can’t be trusted to do their jobs,”

Robb figures it’s time to change the subject before Theon dies of embarrassment. Robb’s noticed that he’s kind of rubbish at being faced with the fact that he has feelings; it reminds Robb of Jon, and to a lesser degree Arya, and to a lesser lesser degree Bran, and then Robb decides to end that train of thought, because what the fuck.

He says “This other job was your big secret then?”

Theon pulls himself together, pushing back the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. “I figured I’d impress you more with how I can sneak you backstage to meet bands if it’s a surprise too,” he says, a half-shrug accompanying the words. It’s a carefully casual gesture.

“I’m very impressed,” Robb tells him, because he _is,_ and because he doesn’t think he could bear to tell Theon otherwise. How could he, when Theon visibly brightens at his words like that?

His endearing self-assurance back in place, Theon says “Come on then. I’ll be running in and out a bit, since I’m head technician this time, but I’ll give you the best place to sit and watch.”

Theon’s dressed relatively simply this time around, an outfit consisting of a light blue t-shirt that matches the ends of his hair tucked into a pair of black joggers. He looks comfortable. He, if Robb’s being honest, looks really good. Robb doesn’t mind sitting and watching at all.

When he’s given his position and told to stay, atop of a dark crate, he relishes in getting to watch Theon at work. 

It’s nice—fascinating, really, to watch him in action. Theon takes to leadership well. All of his conduct is lighthearted but still carries authority; he’s courteous and calm when dealing with the members of the band, he’s relaxed and quick-witted when he’s talking to his coworkers. He directs people and shouts orders into his headset and makes hand gestures that Robb can’t decipher at all, and it strikes Robb that it’s the first time he’s ever seen somebody work a crowd this well. 

It strikes Robb that Theon’s honestly good at handling people, and surprisingly so, though Robb can’t tell why he’s surprised. It makes something that feels like pride bloom in Robb’s chest: pride at watching Theon so easily excel, and pride at being shown this side of him.

Robb watches as Theon shifts around the stage and the venue with ease, occasionally coming back to complain about trivial things to Robb, or point out interesting developments. As much as he whines, Robb can tell that Theon loves this job, and the people he’s working with. Robb realizes, as he’s been doing an awful lot ever since meeting Theon, that he’s in deep. Real fucking deep. 

Still, as Theon stops by for a short break and the two of them divulge into a quick kissing session, Robb can’t find a single reservation about the situation.

* * *

The band, when they come on, are good. Not as entertaining as watching Theon run around the stage, but Robb is probably a little bit biased. It’s strange, but decidedly enjoyable, to watch the band from the wings instead of the crowd, and Theon is by his side more than not as they make their way through the set. 

It’s the eye of the storm, with Theon pressed up against him as they watch the lights flash, head on his shoulder. As soon as the band finishes and walks off stage, Theon gives every member a high-five as they pass and then turns to Robb.

“Pack-up’s going to be pretty hectic,” Theon says, “but I should be done in thirty minutes, if you’re willing to wait?”

His gaze is earnest and hopeful as he says it, and Robb has never been more willing to wait for anything in his life. This, unfortunately, doesn’t change the fact that he has a compulsory lab at eight in the morning the next day.

Hoping that he expresses how genuinely disappointed he is, he shakes his head and says “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have early classes tomorrow.”

Theon deflates, looking as sad as Robb feels. It’s some consolation at least: a shitty one, but one regardless. It’s nice to know that Robb isn’t the only one who is overly attached.

Robb watches as Theon draws himself back together and smiles, something half-hearted and purposefully casual. He says “Boo, you whore,” and Robb rolls his eyes in response, but he does laugh. Theon laughs too, and when they fall back into silence, it becomes pretty obvious that neither of them want to go.

Eventually, the shy staring at each other and smiling comes to an end. It’s become a bit of a pattern at the end of their meetings, so when Theon looks away and says “See you next time?”, voice soft and full of hope and just the slightest bit nervous, Robb is expecting it. He wonders when, what it’ll take, for Theon to lose this particular habit; it’s like he’s never sure that there will be a next meeting, and Robb doesn’t know how to communicate that he wishes he could talk to Theon all the time. That every time they part, Robb’s heart begins a countdown to the next meeting, constantly aware of the seconds ticking down.

In the end, all he says is “See you next time, Theon.”

It’s enough, and Theon nods. Robb gathers his stuff and leaves, after one last goodbye kiss, because he knows if he doesn’t get out of there right now then he never will.

The ride home is lonely and quiet, and Robb’s in a bit of a mood by the time he gets home. It’s not a feeling he enjoys, and he knows that if he goes to sleep upset he’ll most likely wake up upset, so the rare sight of Jon sitting at the kitchen table when he walks in is a welcome sight.

Jon looks up from his laptop and smiles at Robb, standing up and rolling his eyes in expectation for the hug Robb immediately goes to give him.

“Jon!” he exclaims, pulling his brother into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Laughing, Jon says “I wanted to exploit the ridiculously good internet speeds here,” and at Robb’s wounded noise, he adds “and see the family, of course,” in a dry voice. Robb’s so elated at Jon’s appearance in the Stark house that he almost completely forgets about his bad mood.

They both settle at the dinner table, and Robb shamelessly steals pieces of chicken from the stir-fry that Jon has sitting in front of him as Jon recounts how he had walked in in the middle of Stark World War Three. Apparently, Arya has sworn to never speak to Bran again, while Bran has decided to take up paper crafts in an attempt to show Arya that her present hadn’t even been that good anyway. In the quiet of the night, with everybody else upstairs, Robb is comfortable enough to confess to Jon that he had been the instigator of the fight.

“Robb Stark!” Jon gasps, but he’s laughing as he says it. “You’ve brought a curse down on our heads,”

Robb nods in grave agreement, saying “I didn’t realize how great the fallout of my actions would be,” and shaking his head as he does. 

Jon rolls his eyes. “Should’ve seen it coming from this drama queen household,” he says dryly, batting Robb’s hand away when he goes for the plate of stir-fry again.

“We all do dumb things in the name of self-preservation,” Robb says with a shrug, trying to seem unrepentant. Jon eyes him, clearly suspicious, and something must show on Robb’s face, because then he’s rolling his eyes again.

“You’re totally going to do some ridiculous and sappy thing to make it up to Arya and Bran, aren’t you,” Jon snorts. Robb shrugs, and he’s actually unrepentant this time; so he loves his siblings. Sue him.

“I’ve never claimed to be unpredictable,” he replies. The way Jon laughs at that comment sets him off grinning as well, and the conversation fades into an easy silence for a while.

Then, Jon closes his laptop and leans back, pinning Robb with a stare. Robb, with the perfect clarity of hindsight, realizes that he’s lead himself into a trap.

“You went out with that guy again tonight, then?” Jon asks, tone deceptively casual. Robb should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve known that bringing up Arya and Bran’s interrogation would’ve set something off in Jon; sure, he and Jon are allies usually, but alliances are never static among a group of six siblings. 

Sighing, his thoughts heavy with the realization he won’t be able to get out of this one nearly as easy as he had earlier today, Robb nods. “Yeah. He works at the Forum, so he got me in to see a concert for free.”

Something seems to change in Jon at that, because he pauses, blinking at Robb with a carefully blank look on his face. Robb leans in a little, tilting his head at Jon in a sign of confusion at the sudden change in manner.

Jon clears his throat and seems to shake himself out, but doesn’t meet Robb’s gaze anymore.

Then, he says “Funny. The guy I used to… be with, worked at the Forum too.”

Robb can’t help the quick inhale that he takes. Jon is… well, he’s inscrutable and distant at the _best_ of times, and even with Robb, who he’s closest to in the family, he tends to put up walls. All of them are somewhat aware that Jon had been in some sort of thing with a guy up until recently, but Jon had barely given up any information about him while they had been together; after the split, his silence on the matter was all-encompassing.

Robb thinks this is the first time that Jon has so much as brought up the guy unprompted, and he’s torn between fierce happiness that Jon trusts him with this, and mellow sadness that he doesn’t feel comfortable telling him anymore. Robb is here for his brother, and he just hopes that Jon knows that.

Unsure of how to proceed, and worried that he could ruin the moment somehow, Robb decides to go for the lighthearted route. Jon’s allergic to emotions, and Robb doesn’t want to push it.

He gives Jon a smile and jokes “Damn, maybe it’s the same guy,”

Jon sits up straight in his chair and looks Robb dead in the eye, gaze suddenly heated.

“No.” Jon says. “Don’t even joke about that.”

Robb can’t help it: he laughs at the reaction, putting a hand over his mouth to try and muffle the sound. Jon breaks into laughter as well, albeit less lively, but Robb’s satisfied with how he navigated the situation regardless. Jon doesn’t have that awkward, blank atmosphere about him anymore, even as he shakes his head and says “Seriously, Robb. That’s not a joking matter.”

Robb waves Jon’s concerns away, although he puts the information about Jon’s faceless ex-paramour away to ponder over later. “Don’t worry,” Robb says with a warm smile. “From what I can gather, your guy sounds like an asshole, and… my… my guy’s not anything like that.”

His face heats at calling Theon his, but he powers through regardless, because it’s truer than it isn’t. He recalls the feeling of Theon’s hand curling in his, and Theon’s arm around his shoulders, and he doesn’t know what else they could possibly be if not each other’s.

Jon, who has obviously picked up on the blush on Robb’s cheeks, gives him a fond grin. “Wow,” Jon teases, “you are _far gone,_ aren’t you?”

Robb rolls his eyes, because that particular revelation is old news by now. “Shut up,” he says, grinning too hard for it to have any sting. “So what if I am?”

Jon smiles again, and it creeps into the parts of Robb’s memories that include running around the lounge room and staying up at night on their DSes and climbing trees in the backyard; it’s a warm, almost nostalgic expression, and Robb feels himself settle down at the sight. He’s never really stopped wishing that Jon hadn’t moved out, even if he’s gotten over the absences by now, and it’s nice to still be able to bond with each other over the kitchen table late at night.

“It’s good to see you happy, Robb,” Jon says, quieter. His tone turns awkward, but he still continues with “It’s… it’s been a while, since I’ve seen you like this. It’s good.”

Robb’s overcome with the urge to hug Jon, so he does, standing up at the table and coming around to pull his brother into another embrace. Jon hugs back, grip strong and steady and just desperate enough to make Robb think that Jon misses Robb as much as Robb misses him.

It’s a good feeling. A comforting feeling. When they part, Robb grins down at Jon and says “Honestly? It’s good to be happy.”

And it is. It really, really is, Robb thinks, as he remembers the way Theon smiles at him, and the expectant nervousness in every _See you again?_ that he says. It’s really, really damn good to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic was meant to only be four (4) chapters..... and now, here, at the 4th chapter, after having increased the ch count twice, i finally admit to myself that i have been waffling on for 4 wholeass chapters trying to avoid the climax of the story. so from here on out. this is my promise to u. i will get the fuck on with it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for a very badly handled panic attack in this ch. it happens right at the end after "He wonders, idly, what it'll be like when Robb meets Asha." and lasts til the end of the chapter. stay safe lads take care of urselves.
> 
> anyway, w that out of the way, hi all!!!!!! oh god. sorry for the delay. i started my next sem of uni and then life just kind of whacked me over the head. that being said, look. don't demand a new chapter in the comments. u can say u hope there's one coming soon, or that you cant wait for more, or whatever, but telling me to update or asking me to be faster wont fly! if anything it'll make me delay the chapter for longer out of annoyance

Somewhere along the way, Theon’s plans for revenge hit a roadblock. 

Roadblock, otherwise formally introduced as Robb Stark, because Robb just happens to be the kind of guy who makes you forget that the rest of the world even exists, and Theon sure forgets.

Robb texts back almost as fast as Theon does, and Theon knows he texts back  _ fast _ —he has no shame. Robb laughs at all of Theon’s comments and seems to find everything Theon has to say interesting. Robb reaches out to touch Theon with confidence and familiarity, admiring whatever hairstyle he’s sporting today, nudging him in the side, brushing their hands together. 

They hang out again, and again, because Theon discovers that his workplace is right near where Robb does his internship, and it’s so easy to meet up from there. Theon walks Grey Wind with Robb and mercilessly makes fun of him for the name. Robb comes to indie film screenings with Theon at the local cinema and valiantly tries to understand everything that happens. They hang out and they keep hanging out, because time never passes as quickly and as easily as when Theon’s with Robb.

They’re together right now, sitting in the honest-to-god  _ office _ that Robb gets at his internship because he’s working at his father’s company and on the fast track to inheriting. Theon loves it because it’s the kind of office that has wide windows and plenty of natural light, and also because it has Robb.

Robb, who is currently sitting at his desk, frowning at his laptop. Theon is lying on the couch in the office, his feet hanging over the armrest and eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling. He’s supposed to be doing homework, but it’s a pretty nice day despite it being the start of winter, and he just wants to zone out.

He decides to not mull over how he’s apparently comfortable enough around Robb to let his mind wander, because he really doesn’t want to think too deeply about it. Shit, he’s trying not to think too deeply about this entire thing.

Out of nowhere, Robb sighs and shuts his laptop. He leans back in his seat and spins in it, once, twice, then three times. Attention attracted by the movement, Theon glances over at him. Robb’s pouting, a little, and he looks like he’s gearing up for another spin.

He glances at Theon before looking away and launching straight into the fourth, and then fifth, spin, and Theon realizes what’s happening. 

“If you want me to pay attention to you,” Theon starts, his voice amused, “all you have to do is ask.”

Robb looks up to meet Theon’s gaze properly this time, and he’s definitely pouting now. “I wasn’t trying to—” he says, and then cuts himself off at the way Theon raises his eyebrows. “Okay,” Robb amends, “maybe I was a  _ little,” _

“Spin another time in your chair, why don’t you,” Theon says dryly. “Maybe it’ll screw your head on properly,”

“Oh shut up,” Robb replies, now smiling. The look makes Theon smile in return. “It’s not fair that you’re lying there enjoying the view while I’m doing work,”

Theon snorts and says “I’m supposed to be doing work too. I’m just choosing to do other things. This could be you,” He accompanies the words with a wide sweep of his arm, gesturing to the window and the couch. He then pats the space beside him, eyebrows wiggling at Robb. “Free real estate right here, looking for a wealthy young heir to snap it up,”

Robb laughs, throwing his head back. The sight makes Theon feel a little bit like he’s been pushed into an incinerator, which is ridiculous. It’s been three weeks of nearly non-stop talking and spending time with each other. He really doesn’t need to feel like a volcano about to erupt whenever he sees Robb laugh.

Robb wheels over to Theon, pushing along with his feet only, which is a truly ridiculous thing for a nearly full-grown man to be doing. Theon has to laugh at the image. When Robb arrives at his destination, right in front of Theon’s couch, he crosses his arms.

“Not all of us enjoy shirking our responsibilities,” Robb halfway lectures. Theon, used to Robb’s darling do-gooder nature by now, rolls his eyes instead of getting annoyed at the reprimand.

“And not all of us enjoy being shackled to other people’s expectations, but I guess nobody can have everything,” he replies. 

Robb pouts again. Theon wonders whether he does that unconsciously or if he’s aware of how effective it is. Which would be worse? The idea that Robb can just pull those kinds of expressions naturally is terrifying, but so is the notion that he knows what he’s doing. 

God, Theon is just lucky that the only person to witness how much of a marshmallow he is around Robb  _ is  _ Robb, who is too nice to say anything about it.

With an exaggerated sigh, he sits up a little in the seat and leans in towards Robb, cupping his face as he does.

“Should I distract you properly?” he hums, keeping his tone low.

Robb’s eyes flash, and Theon watches as he bites at his lip, obviously weighing up the choices. Theon leans closer to do some more convincing, when Robb abruptly sits up and pushes away in his chair. He fucking  _ wheelie chairs _ away from Theon, arms crossed.

“No,” Robb says petulantly, “I have to finish this.”

Theon, feeling almightily slighted, huffs, and flops back onto the couch. “Fine,” he snipes, “have fun with your statistics,”

“Statistics aren’t that bad,” Robb says. Theon doesn’t deign that with a response. It’s entirely unconvincing, and even Robb knows it, considering by the expression on his face. 

Robb says “This report is due tomorrow,” like Theon gives a single shit about that. Theon continues to ignore him. “Seriously, I’ll get skinned if I don’t finish it.”

Theon pointedly pulls out his phone. Robb makes a wounded sound, but still doesn’t cave. What he does instead is go back to his laptop, a pout set on his face, and start to type again. 

Theon rolls his eyes and has to bite down on the smile forming. It’s a waiting game now, seeing which one of them will cave first, and Theon isn’t about to lose. 

It goes on for a few minutes, and probably could’ve gone on for longer—they’re both stubborn enough for it, but their simultaneous sulking is brought to an abrupt halt when Robb’s office door slams open. Theon’s pretty sure that thing has a lock on it. What the fuck.

“Hi Robb!” Somebody announces. “School was cancelled, and Arya and Bran are still in World War Three, so we’re spending the afternoon here.”

Two girls walk in. Theon has no idea who they are, but the obvious answer is Robb’s younger sisters. They’re both in school uniform, both with untamably curly hair, both carrying themselves with ease. The taller one hangs her bag up on the hooks on the back of Robb’s door. The shorter one rolls her eyes and dumps her bag on the ground.

Theon, very carefully, does not let himself jump out of the window.

He looks at Robb, who happens to be looking at him; Robb’s torn between delight and panic, which is nice for him, because all Theon can feel is  _ panic. _ Oh god. At least they hadn’t been making out.

Seriously, wasn’t that door supposed to have a  _ lock? _

Robb looks away from Theon, which is terrible, because that meant Theon couldn’t plausibly use staring into Robb’s—and to be fair, they’re gorgeous—eyes as an excuse to ignore the two gremlins now in the office. 

Robb says “Hello, little sisters,” and then looks at Theon again, and belatedly adds “Why is school cancelled?”

The two girls ignore Robb’s comment and focus on Robb’s movements, which leads their gazes towards Theon.

They stare. Theon stares back.

Maybe he should’ve taken the chance to jump out of the window. 

There’s a moment of silence, where Theon has three pairs of blue eyes on him and no possible escape, and then it all erupts into noise.

“Who are  _ you?”  _ The shorter one screeches, at the same time the taller one turns to Robb and shouts “Who is  _ that?” _ , which is coincidentally also at the same time that Robb puts his hands over his ears and exclaims “This is Theon!” a little desperately.

Theon says nothing. He thinks of the window.

Theon says nothing, even when all three Stark siblings present burst into noise again: Robb yells  _ “Be nice!” _ at the same time that the shorter one yells  _ “What is he doing here?” _ at the same time that the taller one yells  _ “Oh my god, is this your boyfriend?” _

He doesn’t think he can bring himself to speak ever again, actually. There’s a difference between knowing that the guy you’re sort of involved with has five siblings and seeing the proof with your very own eyes that two people had given birth to Robb fucking Stark and then decided,  _ hm, no, we can try for more. _

(On the part of Theon’s family, he thinks his parents should’ve called it a day after Asha, but raging misogyny on his father’s part had probably dictated that the only decent child of the family couldn’t be a girl. Too bad that Theon had turned out to be the biggest disappointment of them all. There’s a punchline about karma in there somewhere.)

He tunes back into the moment just in time, because Robb has stood up and is yelling, at an incredibly impressive volume,  _ “Mouths closed and hands on your heads!” _

Like little trained soldiers, both of the girls snap to action: they stop talking and put their hands on their heads. Sure, they both look mutinous and ready to murder Robb once whatever spell he just cast on them wears off, but they’re at least they’re  _ silent. _ Theon is never ever ever going to take Asha for granted again.

Robb, hands on his hips, glares at them and says “That was incredibly rude.” 

Theon, despite a predisposition to not giving a shit about authority or manners, feels secondhand chastised.

The taller one huffs and says “Like you can do anything about it! You won’t tell mum, because then you’ll have to reveal that you’ve got a  _ secret boyfriend _ you’ve been hiding from the family!” 

At the end of that, she points accusingly at Theon, and Theon is once again treated to the terrible experience of having the attention of everybody else in the room. He fights valiantly to not cower under the combined gazes.

Robb stares at him imploringly, and Theon realizes that he hasn’t said a single thing this entire time. The other two turn their gazes to Theon as well. Robb mouths something that might be  _ please, _ but could just as easily be  _ leave. _ Theon knows which one he wants it to be, at least.

They keep staring.

“Um,” he says, unable to avoid it any longer. He’s a little afraid that the smaller one might kill him if he doesn’t say something. She can glare something ferocious, jesus. “Hi. I’m… Theon.”

“He’s not a secret boyfriend,” Robb adds. 

Hearing it makes something drop in Theon’s chest. It makes sense, because they haven’t really discussed it, haven’t put a name to whatever this is, but he’s been… ignoring that detail, mostly. It seems like Robb’s stance on it is clear.

Then, Robb continues “He’s a perfectly un-secret boyfriend. Look, he’s right there. No secret-keeping to be found,” and Theon’s stupid heart flips. He makes eye contact with Robb, despite the alarms blaring in his mind, and when Robb smiles—Theon smiles back. Of course he smiles back.

“Oh, gross,” the smaller one says. 

The taller one bats her on the shoulder and says “Hush. It’s adorable. Nice to meet you, Theon, sorry for the bad first impression.”

Theon ducks her head at her uncertainly, and says “Uh, no problem.” The three continue to stare at him. Theon desperately wishes he was somewhere else. He ventures forth with “...Robb’s told me enough about you guys that I’m not surprised it went that way,”

It’s the right thing to say, because Robb and the taller one beam at him. The shorter one just looks… less glarey, but that’s something, Theon supposes. He really needs to figure out their names. He can’t just keep calling them the taller one and the shorter one in his head.

“This is so exciting,” the…—Theon racks his mind—the one who might be Sansa, gushes, removing her hands from her head so she can throw them around Robb’s shoulders instead. Robb, laughing, catches her in the motion, and then they’re just… hugging. There’s a fond smile on Robb’s face as he looks down at his little sister. Strangely, Theon can’t look directly at either of them.

The smaller one—Arya..?—looks at her older siblings and scrunches up her nose. “Gross,” she intones again. Theon can heavily relate.

Robb and maybe-hopefully-Sansa both roll their eyes at hopefully-maybe-Arya in a show of uncanny sibling resemblance. Maybe-Arya pokes her tongue out right back at them, but she’s smiling. Oh god. They’re a  _ family. _ Theon has just realized how stunningly out of his depth he is.

Robb turns to Theon, an arm still wrapped fondly around Sansa, and says “Theon, this is my younger sister Sansa, and that’s my other younger sister, Arya.”

At least he was right about the names. 

Theon nods at both of them, attempting at a smile. Arya narrows her eyes at Theon, but at least Sansa smiles back.

“Nice to meet you,” Theon says. He can’t recall the last time he had said that to anybody: the platitude sits awkwardly on his tongue. 

Arya crosses her arms and steps closer, looking entirely too menacing for somebody who Theon could step on. “What are your intentions with my brother?” she demands. Theon is pretty sure she’s like, twelve or something, where the hell did she learn that line?

She’s glaring at him, clearly expecting an answer. The only thing that Theon can think is  _ up until five minutes ago, seduce him into making out with me on his comfortable office couch, _ which he obviously doesn’t say. 

He’s saved from answering by Robb groaning and moving away from Sansa. He steps towards Arya, putting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her away from Theon’s space with the roll of his eyes.

“I said be nice,” Robb reprimands, but the affection is clear in his tone. Arya lets herself be pulled away—Theon doesn’t think that anybody could stop her from mauling him if she didn’t want them to—and when she and Robb step back to be level with Sansa, Theon feels a little teamed up on. The three of them are clearly a unit. He’s just… him.

Arya grumbles “I’m looking out for you,” with childish petulance. Robb laughs and ruffles her hair, at which she rolls her eyes but doesn’t fight. It’s sweet. Theon is reflexively disgusted with himself for thinking so.

“Theon’s great, okay? And I like him very much, so if you two are going to stay, you can’t scare him off,” Robb continues. 

Blood rushes to his face. Theon doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Robb’s tendency to state what he feels without hesitation. Robb likes him very much. This fact shouldn’t affect him as much as it does, considering Theon’s had his tongue down Robb’s throat, but he finds himself wanting to jump out of the window for entirely different reasons now.

“Aw,” Sansa coos. “You have a crush on him,”

Robb, living up to his reputation of possibly the most ridiculous being alive, blushes. 

“Sure, sure, whatever,” he says, ushering his sisters towards the couch. “Alright, go make friends, I have to work.”

Theon almost jumps to vacate the space, pushing himself to the very end of the seat. Sansa holds back an obvious laugh at his jerky movements, but when she takes a seat, she does smile at him. It’s probably supposed to be reassuring. Theon smiles back and tries to remember what it was like to be seventeen: at least, he’s pretty sure she’s seventeen. He might be wrong. 

On top of that, he remembers that for him, being seventeen was unceremoniously awful, so maybe that isn’t the best conversation topic anyway. 

At least Arya isn’t paying attention to Theon. After depositing herself on the far couch arm, she’d pulled out a switch and proceeded to play her game on full volume. It leaves Theon and Sansa at an awkward standstill, but at least he doesn’t feel so ganged up on anymore.

Finally, Sansa smiles again, a little tighter this time, and asks “So how did you and Robb meet?”

Theon looks over at Robb. He’s pretending he isn’t listening in, but when Theon moves, Robb instantly snaps to attention. They make eye contact and Theon tries to communicate  _ am I allowed to tell your sister we had a one night stand, _ but all Robb does is smile encouragingly. Obviously, Robb needs to work on his unspoken communication skills.

Theon turns back to Sansa and says “At a party. We were partners in… beer pong.” He doesn’t know whether that reveals too much moral degradation on his and Robb’s parts, but Sansa  _ is _ seventeen. She knows what beer pong is. Surely.

Sansa frowns, and Theon thinks,  _ fuck. _

Looking over at her brother, that frown still intact, she says “Robb’s rubbish at beer pong,”

Arya, without looking up, adds “An embarrassment to the family, he is,”

The relief hits Theon so hard that he finds himself laughing from it, breathless and elated. It seems to catch everybody else off guard, as Sansa sends him a surprised look, but that soon melts away. She laughs too.

Theon grins and says “Oh, absolutely. We lost because he was dragging me down.”

“Hey!” Robb protests, looking up from his laptop. He pouts very impressively. “I’m not that bad!”

Theon raises an eyebrow at him, aware that Sansa is watching their exchange with bright eyes. He says “Sansa and I are having a conversation, Robb, it’s not polite to interrupt.”

Sansa giggles. Theon hadn’t realized how desperately he needed to make a good impression on Robb’s family until he hears the sound, loud and clear and unabashed. 

“Yeah, Robb,” Sansa teases, “let the adults talk.”

Theon and Sansa’s gazes meet, and there’s a definite conspiratorial note to the smiles they share. The resulting feeling is… almost nice. Theon has no idea what he’s doing here, but it’s not… awful.

He looks back towards Robb, who looks like he’s just realized what a terrible thing he’s unleashed on himself. Shaking his head, he points at Sansa and Arya and says “Alright, this was a bad idea, and you’re both going home right now.”

Arya scoffs and ignores him. Sansa, batting her eyelashes, says “Whatever do you mean, Robb? Theon and I are getting along. You should be happy,”

Theon grins at the despairing look on Robb’s face. The assuredness slowly returns to him, as he tries to remind himself that Sansa and Arya are just people. People who are younger than him and who are the siblings of his maybe-boyfriend, sure, but people all the same. He’s always been able to bluff through every social situation, and he’s not about to let some teenage girls change that.

So when Sansa turns back to him, he’s got an anecdote about Robb’s abysmal beer pong skills at the ready. He speaks, and although Robb groans and whines, Sansa leans in and listens, and Theon can see Arya paying less attention to her switch as he goes on.

He’s got this. He’s outnumbered and out of his depth, but he’s got this.

* * *

Theon thinks he’s doing a pretty damn good job of it, but the truth is that entertaining two teenaged girls is  _ exhausting. _ Hanging out with Robb has a strangely rejuvenating yet relaxing effect on Theon: every time Theon sees him, he feels the fatigue from his day seep out of his bones. It says a lot, this magic that Robb works on Theon, but he tries not to think about it. He feels better when he’s around Robb. That’s that.

Being around Robb with his little siblings, however, is an entirely different deal. Maybe Theon’s gotten too used to Robb’s particular brand of energy and enthusiasm, but when that energy and enthusiasm is bouncing off of Sansa’s and Arya’s, Theon finds himself quickly swept up in a current he can’t surface from. 

There’s a rhythm to their interactions. And he tries, he  _ does  _ try, to keep up, to insert himself into this part of Robb’s life too because Robb wants him there, and Theon thinks he might want to be there as well, but the gap between them only ever increases.

So after an hour or so, Theon plasters a smile onto his face and excuses himself. He walks out into the hallways of Robb’s shiny office building, which only makes him feel more out of place.

He wanders, going towards the faint breeze, until he sees an open door. It leads out onto a balcony, and Theon realizes that he must’ve walked to the other side of the building, because he definitely wasn’t able to see  _ this _ from Robb’s windows.

It’s the sea.

Theon sees it stretch out in front of him, blue and raging and beautiful, and slumps against the balcony. Ironic, really. He spends an hour inside an office that he doesn’t fit in with a family he can’t click with and when he finally escapes, it’s to the sea. The first ever home he had, and subsequently, the first ever place he realized he didn’t belong in.

Numbly, he pulls out his phone. Who the fuck is he supposed to call? Maybe in any other situation, he would just call Robb, but that’s obviously out of the question. Outside of Robb?

His contacts list is pitifully short. He can flick through it in one motion.

Then, a number catches his eye. It’s… it’s a stupid idea, but Theon looks up at the sea, and then down at his phone again, and presses the call button. Anything, really, is preferable to being alone with his thoughts at the moment.

The line rings. And then—

_ “Renly Baratheon,” _ says the voice on the other side of the phone, crisp and neutral. 

“Theon Greyjoy,” Theon replies, mimicking his tone. People who answer their phone like that deserve to be mocked. 

Renly replies  _ “Ah, Theon.” _ There’s a pause. _ “I didn’t realize you had this number.” _

Theon hums, trying to keep his eyes focused on the way the waves broke at the shore. “Loras gave it to me,” he says, wondering if Renly could hear the sea in the background. Sometimes Theon thinks that he can always hear the sea in the background of everywhere he goes. “Just before he let me try to shoot an apple off of his head. I was instructed to call you if he was mortally wounded so that he could deliver his last words,”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Renly says in a low voice,  _ “What?” _

“Oops,” Theon says, a smile sliding across his face. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that,”

_ “What do you want, Theon?” _ Renly says, after another period of quiet. 

Somebody once told Theon that having a conversation with him was like navigating a minefield. Theon doesn’t know about how accurate that is; in minefields, you don’t know where the danger is, and he’s never been one for that kind of passive threat. Anybody who talks to him knows where the danger lies.

Jon had once asked Theon if it was necessary for him to always be on the offensive. He remembers, in that moment, realizing that Jon barely understood him at all. 

Keeping his voice steady and casual, Theon says “I need to talk to a reasonable, sane, family-hating person,”

Renly snorts.  _ “Robb Stark, huh?” _ he says, and Theon tries not to let how obvious it is grate at him. Renly had been there from the very beginning. Of course he knows. 

Still, Theon doesn’t say anything. Plausible deniability.

_ “Do you want tips on dealing with it?” _ Renly asks, sounding amused now. 

“I’d like to think I haven’t dropped to the level where I need advice from you,” Theon drawls. 

In truth, he doesn’t really know why he called at all. Renly’s name had just caught his attention, half-formed pieces of the tragedy that was the Baratheon family had come to mind, and he had pressed the button.

Robb and his sisters are all still inside, waiting for Theon to come back. 

He doesn’t know if he wants to or not.

The line remains quiet for a while, and the only things Theon can hear are the sea rushing away and his heart beating. 

Then, Renly says  _ “I never knew my parents, and Stannis and Robert didn’t care about me. They weren’t the poster children for sibling love either, of course, always at each other’s throats, but that was a relationship at least. They still meant something to each other. I don’t think I meant anything to them.” _

 Theon sucks in a breath.  _ An eye for an eye, _ he thinks. Everything must be repaid.

He says “Sometimes, when Asha looks at me, she sees all the other men in our family instead. My father, my brothers, my uncles. And then I realize that she’s only sticking around to make sure I don't become another one of them. As for the rest of them…” He drops off.

It’s strange. 

Theon thinks this, this reminder that the world is cruel, that the Starks are something straight out of a fairytale, was supposed to make him feel better, but all he feels is hollow. Usually spitting words of resentment and bitterness fuels him, reminding him of the carefully tended to ball of spite inside of him. Theon is an expert in fashioning blades out of his hate, pressing them into places he knows will hurt most and watching the wound fester. 

This time, the knife slips through his fingers. 

Theon hears Renly sigh over the phone. Then, Theon hears  _ “Well, from what I’ve heard about your family, the bar is set pretty low for you,” _ , and to his surprise, he chokes a laugh.

“For what it’s worth,” Theon responds, feeling oddly grateful he ended up calling Renly, “You’re the best Baratheon in my books,”. 

That isn’t a high bar either. So they’re commiserating.

_ “I better be,” _ Renly says, sharp and pleased. A pause.  _ “Good luck with Robb and his horde, Theon.” _

Theon sighs, closing his eyes and feeling the ocean wind on his face. He’ll need luck, he thinks. 

Renly is still on the line, which tells Theon that he’s waiting for something more. Theon briefly considers indulging him, because he  _ had  _ been somewhat of a help. That thought passes quickly.

He says “I can send you a video of the apple incident. It was very impressive on my part, and Loras almost cried.”

_ “You making my boyfriend cry isn’t much of a thank you, Theon,” _ Renly snorts, _ “but sure. Send it.” _

The line goes silent. Renly might just be the perfect sort of person for him to be friends with. 

Feeling strangely buoyed, Theon manages to retrace his steps to Robb’s office. The door’s still open, and he can hear their voices inside. 

He wonders, idly, what it’ll be like when Robb meets Asha.

That thought stops him in his tracks. 

_ When _ Robb meets Asha, he had thought. When.

Theon discovers that his lungs are fickle, fickle things, because he can’t seem to draw in a breath. He had thought  _ when. _ Why did he think that? Why did he want to impress Robb’s sisters so badly? Why did he want to open this door and see Robb smile at him in greeting?

What the fuck was he doing?

Oh god. He thinks his hands are shaking, as he takes unsteady steps away from Robb’s door. He can’t quite feel them. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Those were Robb’s  _ sisters. _ Robb had siblings, including Jon Snow, who was for all intents and purposes Theon’s  _ ex. _ What the fuck was he doing? When was it that he started caring more about seeing Robb’s stupid bright unbelievable face lit up in a smile than seeing Jon’s expression when he finds out Theon had seduced his favourite brother?

Fingers pressing into his palms so hard that Theon’s certain he must be breaking skin, he turns away from Robb and his family and his internship and his happy life, and stumbles towards the elevator.

When the doors close on him, Theon sinks down into a crouch and tries to remember how to breathe. His head is spinning, and the only thing he can feel is the way his nails scratch against his palms.

He doesn’t know how the fuck he gets home. Everything blurs in his head. When his mind stops skydiving long enough for him to get a sense of his surroundings, he’s in front of his apartment door.

His hands are empty. His pockets are empty.

Theon had left his keys at Robb’s office. Actually, he had left  _ everything  _ at Robb’s office.

He presses his palms—bloody, stinging—to his face and sinks to the ground. The salt makes the marks on his hands hurt even more, but it’s something to distract him, at least, so he keeps his hands pressed there and tries to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am also currently offering real casual and flexible writing c*mmissions thru ko-fi! send me 2 or 3 (it's linked in my carrd) and a request and i'll write smth for u :D
> 
> also like, be nice when ur talking about theon's reaction at the end of this ch. yes, he's an idiot, yes, it was very irrational, but i am writing from what the kids call Personal Experience so ..... it happens!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an interlude, of sorts

**baby starks doo doo**

**_queen sansa_ ** _has removed_ **_robb :-)_ ** _from_ **baby starks doo doo**

 **[14:02] the best snow** ****  
that wasn’t nice  
what did he ever do to you

 **[14:02] me** ****  
The queen has spoken  
The queen being me

 **[14:02] the best snow** **  
**tyrant! off with her head!

 **[14:03] me** ****  
Whatever! I have something important to report  
So listen. Up.  
Today arya and i went over to robb’s office after class got cancelled and

 **[14:03] the best stark** **  
**SANSA N I MET ROBB’S BOYF 2DAY

 **[14:03] me** ****  
We met robb’s boyfriend!!! **  
**Omg FUCK OFF ARYA

 **[14:03] the best stark** **  
**lololololol u snooze u lose

 **[14:03] the best snow** ****  
omfg  
tell us everything  
wait  
wait

 **[14:03] me** **  
**Waiting.

 **[14:03] the best stark** **  
**w8ing

 **_the best snow_ ** _has added_ **_bran_ ** _into_ **_baby starks doo doo_ **

**_the best snow_ ** _has changed_ **_bran’s_ ** _nickname to_ **_the most apologetic stark_ **

**[14:04] the best snow** ****  
alright kids get along this is bigger than petty arguments  
this is LIFE and DEATH

 **[14:04] me** **  
**Robb gets removed and you automatically think you have more authority

 **[14:05] the most apologetic stark** **  
**Thanks jon…… 👽👽👽

 **[14:05] the best stark** ****  
U  
G  
H

 **[14:06] the best snow** ****  
be nice!  
also you’re welcome bran whatever that emoji means

 **[14:06] the best stark** ****  
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuugh  
fine  
on 1 condition

 **_the best stark_ ** _has changed_ **_the most apologetic stark’s_ ** _nickname to_ **_traitor scum_ **

**[14:07] babiest stark** ****  
wait waht  
robb has a bf?  
was anybdot going to tell me this or was i just supposed to read the gcand find out on my OWN?

 **[14:07] me** **  
**We are getting OFF TRACK!

 **[14:07] the best stark** ****  
yea the whole fam’s here now its time 4 🍵  
which is: hes cool when hes not being gross

 **[14:07] me** ****  
Omg shush  
You just hate romance! He and robb are adorable

 **[14:08] the best stark** ****  
they kept luking @ e/o and making loooovey dovey eyes  
gross af

 **[14:08] the best snow** ****  
okay i could’ve guessed that myself considering how the r*bbxj*yne honeymoon period was  
i need more  
i need names i need ages i need social security numbers come on guys give me something to work with

 **[14:08] traitor scum** **  
****👻** Are you hiring an assassin 👻

 **[14:09] the best snow** **  
**if that’s what it comes to

 **[14:09] the best stark** ****  
nah  
u wouldnt need an assassin  
the guy looks p weak we cld all take him  
💪💪💪

 **[14:09] the best snow** **  
**noted

 **[14:10] me** ****  
Oh my god  
None of you are fun to gossip with at all  
It’s all MURDER and COMPLAINING where is your sense of ROMANCE  
Where is the EXCITEMENT where is the HOPE where is the DESPERATE PRAYING THAT ROBB WILL FINALLY STOP BEING A LOSER

 **[14:10] the best snow** **  
**my sense of hope died when you popped out of the womb

 **_queen sansa_ ** _has removed_ **_the best snow_ ** _from_ **_baby starks doo doo_ **

**[14:10] me** **  
**ANYWAY

 **[14:10] babiest stark** **  
**so whatz his name

 **[14:11] traitor scum** **  
**🖋️👂🧐

 **[14:11] the best stark** **  
**w8 jon wants me 2 add him bk

 **[14:11] me** ****  
Do it after i’ve said the name  
Make him suffer

 **[14:12] the best stark** **  
**lol k

 **[14:12] me** ****  
So anyway the guy’s name is theon greyjoy  
Hes like 6’0 maybe  
Long hair  
Dresses well  
Kind of shy?  
Really into robb

 **[14:13] traitor scum** **  
**📝📝📝

 **[14:13] the best stark** **  
**ok im adding jon now

 **_the best stark_ ** _has added_ **_jon_ ** _into_ **_baby starks doo doo_ **

**[14:14] traitor scum** **  
**welcome back

 **[14:14] jon**  
thanks arya  
fuck you sansa

 **_jon_ ** _has changed their own nickname to_ **_the best snow_ **

**_the best snow_ ** _has changed_ **_the best stark’s_ ** _nickname to_ **_my fav sister_ **

**[14:15] my fav sister** **  
**😎😎😎

 **[14:15] me** ****  
Whatever!  
You’ll never find out the mystery bf’s identity acting like this

 **[14:15] the best snow** ****  
wait what  
DID YOU SPILL?

 **[14:15] babiest stark** **  
**lol ya we all kno

 **[14:16] the best snow** ****  
NO  
TELL ME  
@arya please tell me  
please please please

 **[14:16] my fav sister** ****  
b4 u ask things of me  
think 2 urself  
what can U offer ME?

 **[14:16] me** **  
**Don’t do it arya whatever he offers i’ll top the deal

 **[14:16] my fav sister** **  
**hmm 🤔

 **[14:17] the best snow** **  
**i’ll drive u anywhere u want for the next 3 months

 **[14:17] my fav sister** **  
**HMM 🤔

 **[14:17] me** **  
**Your art club captain is in my class i’ll invite him to our next house party

 **[14:17] the best snow** **  
**FUCK OFF THATS NOT FAIR

 **[14:17] my fav sister** **  
**SANSA WINS

 **[14:18] the best snow** ****  
FUCJK  
fine. fine.  
any chance one of u will tell me @rickon @bran

 **[14:18] babiest stark** **  
**lol no

 **[14:18] traitor scum** **  
**🐭🐭🐭🐭🐭

 **[14:18] the best snow** **  
**i cannot begin to imagine what thats supposed to mean

 **[14:19] me** **  
**Don’t tell him bran

 **[14:19] traitor scum** **  
**🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

 **[14:19] babiest stark** **  
**why r u so wierd

 **[14:19] the best snow** ****  
bran please  
i’ll do anything

 **[14:19] traitor scum** **  
**Anything…………

 **[14:20] me** **  
**BRAN NO

 **[14:20] my fav sister** **  
**that’s a trap if ive evr seen 1

 **[14:20] the best snow** **  
**.... anything.

 **[14:20] traitor scum** ****  
Can you get me some weed  
Meera wants to try

 **[14:20] me** **  
**WHAT THE FUCK

 **[14:20] the best snow** **  
**WHAT THE FUCK

 **[14:21] my fav sister** **  
**hoyl SHIT

 **[14:21] me** **  
**WHAT THE FUCK

 **[14:21] babiest stark** ****  
im claling the POLICE  
THE COPS  
THE FBI

 **[14:21] the best snow** ****  
what the fuckfjfbhfnjkf  
this isnt real

 **[14:21] my fav sister** ****  
@bran ur forgiven 4 bein a fucking traitor that was incredible  
i think u broke sansa  
holy SHIT!!!

 **[14:22] traitor scum** ****  
Guys please be cool oh my god  
I was joking

 **[14:22] the best snow** **  
**oh my god

 **[14:22] me** ****  
what the fuck  
i was abt to cry

 **[14:22] traitor scum** **  
**Meera can get her own if she needs it

 **[14:22] **the best snow** **  
****AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

 **[14:22] my fav sister** **  
**LMFAO

 **[14:23] me** **  
**[LEASE SAY SIKE

 **[14:23]** **the best snow** **  
**I HATE THIS I HATE THIS

 **[14:23] my fav sister** **  
**LMFAOOOOOOOOOO

 **_babiest stark_ ** _has left the chat_ **_baby starks doo doo_ **

**_my fav sister_ ** _has changed_ **_traitor scum’s_ ** _nickname to_ **_absolute mad lad_ **

**[14:24] absolute mad lad** ****  
Lol  
Anyway his name is theon greyjoy

 **[14:24] me** **  
**BRAN YOU SUCK

 **[14:24] my fav sister** **  
**omg booooo after i even changed ur nickname n everythng

 **[14:25] the best snow** **  
**What.

 **_the best snow_ ** _has left the chat_ **_baby starks doo doo_ **

* * *

 

 **[14:25] jon!!!!!!!!!!** ****  
robb  
Robb.  
ROBB STARK

 _You have one missed call[s] from_ **_jon!!!!!!!!!!_ **

**[14:26] jon!!!!!!!!!!** **  
**ROBB FUCKING PICK UP THE PHONE

 _You have two missed call[s] from_ **_jon!!!!!!!!!!_ **

_You have three missed call[s] from_ **_jon!!!!!!!!!!_ **

**[14:27] jon!!!!!!!!!!** ****  
robb we need to talk please pick up its serious  
its an emergency  
code red like actually code red

 _You have six missed call[s] from_ **_jon!!!!!!!!!!_ **

_You have one voicemail message from_ **_jon!!!!!!!!!!_ **

_“Robb if you’re hearing this call me back I mean it I really fucking mean it we need to talk okay? Please call me back this is very serious.”_

**[14:30] jon!!!!!!!!!!  
** CODE RED, ROBB. CODE FUCKING RED.

* * *

Robb’s in his car, halfway to the address that was printed on Theon’s license when the phone in the seat next to him started to ring.  _ Theon’s _ phone started to ring.

He pulls over as quickly as he can, mumbling curses as he fumbles to grab the phone and answer the call. It’s from a contact named 🍆👽😴, though Robb has  _ no _ idea who that could be.

He finally picks up and presses the phone to his ear. 

He starts “Hey, you’ve reached Theon’s phone. Unfortunately, Theon’s misplaced it, but if you—” and cuts off when he hears a deeply familiar, and deeply incredulous voice say _ “Robb?” _

“Jon?” he blurts out.

Jon sounds torn between relief and fear when he says  _ “Oh my god, Robb. Fuck. It’s  _ you.  _ Fuck.” _

“Are you okay?” Robb asks. He can feel his heart starting to speed up at the distress in Jon’s tone. 

_ “Yes,” _ Jon says, then  _ “No. Maybe. Sort of. Fuck. Can you come over right now?” _

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Robb replies. That response from Jon hadn’t really helped in making him feel better, and he’s getting more concerned by the minute, but… god,  _ Theon. _ Theon was waiting. Theon had disappeared and left his phone and his bag behind and Robb is going to track him down and make sure he’s okay if it’s the last thing Robb fucking  _ does. _

Then Jon exhales, his breath shaky, and says  _ “It’s really important. Like super important. Like, an emergency important.” _

“What’s wrong?” Robb asks. He automatically switches into his crisis-management tone: level and reassuring, even when he doesn’t feel it. “Are you safe?”

_ “I’m safe, don’t worry,” _ Jon mumbles.  _ “I’ll tell you when you get here—I just, I really need you to be here right now. Please, Robb.” _

Something sparks inside Robb’s mind. He remembers being younger, when he and Jon had been living under the same roof.  They had shared rooms up until they were eleven years old, after which Catelyn had deemed them old enough to have their own rooms. Jon, Robb recalls, had been so excited at the thought of having his own space, much more than Robb was. The first day of having separate rooms, Robb had barely seen Jon at all, his brother too busy with relishing and decorating his own space.

Then, that night, Robb'a door had been pushed open. Jon, wrapped in his blankets and looking more vulnerable than Robb had ever seen him, had asked if he could sleep in Robb’s room. 

The same mix of fear, vulnerability, and loneliness that Robb could remember in eleven-year-old Jon’s voice comes through now, in the present. It’s been years, but this is still Jon.

Robb clenches his hands on the steering wheel. He hesitates for a second.

Then he says “Alright. I’ll see you in a bit, Jon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this was a cop out chapter but for reasons icb explaining it needed to happen anyway hope u enjoyed xoxo. i wish i could take credit for that stroke of genius, but the gc name 'baby starks doo doo' was taken directly from [you mean you forgot cranberries too?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763017) by glassessay. its a real fucking good fic yall.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit 25/11: im a fucking idiot theon doesn't have his phone. apologies
> 
> HELLO IM SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!!!! i have **added a section to the previous chapter (6)!** it is very short so it's a quick read but please go read it otherwise the rest of the fic will not make sense!!! thank u!!! i have finished w uni for the year so i am now free to write all the time so hopefully updates will be coming faster!
> 
> general warning for like, self deprecating thoughts and general negative mindsets but like... stuff u would expect from theon ykno.

Theon doesn't know how long he spends crying at his doorstep. Too long. It's definitely been too fucking long. Too long spent pressing his fists to his eyes, too long spent digging his nails into his palms, too long spent being a wreck. He wants to stop already, but every time the tears dry up his thought process stumbles and he's crying again and god, he despises himself, despises his tears and his shaky hands and his stupidity. Twenty-one years old and still having panic attacks, still possessed by the urge to run every time he’s afraid, still abandoning everything in the face of his fear.

Still scared that his father is going to round the corner and catch him in the act. Still afraid that retribution will come a hundred times over for his weakness, his cowardice, his vulnerability. 

It doesn’t matter that there’s a laminated restraining order against Balon Greyjoy sitting in his desk—some things never leave you.

The only reason he stops his pitiful sniffles at all is that somebody walks by. He hears their footsteps approach and hears them stop by him, and he’s begging in his head, begging _no keep going keep walking leave me alone don’t touch me I’m sorry I’m not good enough I’m your son don’t hurt me_ when they say “Hey, are you alright?”

Theon squeezes his eyes shut. This voice is one he doesn’t know. It’s not his father’s voice, bellowing and harsh and cutting. It’s a gentle, steady voice.

He says, though he doesn’t know how he manages, “I’m. Um. Locked out.” He doesn’t want to, but he forces his eyes open.

The girl standing in front of him is one he vaguely recognizes, but can’t place the origin of that recognition. She’s half leaning down, like she’s unsure of whether he wants the company or not down here at rock bottom. There’s a set of keys in her hand and a bag of groceries in the other, and she’s worrying at her lip. She looks a little anxious, her eyes wary as she stares at Theon.

“Oh,” she says. “That sucks.” It’s obvious that she doesn’t think that being locked out is Theon’s only problem, but she takes him at face value regardless, which he manages to feel grateful for. “Do you have roommates?”

Somewhere along the line, both Theon and Asha started to commit each other’s work schedules to memory. There’s a calendar in their kitchen, with each schedule neatly filled in. Theon would stare at those little boxes, making sure he knew when she was leaving, and when she would be home. He hasn’t caught her doing it, but he thinks Asha does the same. It’s an unspoken safeguard put mostly in place for Theon’s benefit, because of that one time Balon had run into him on the street after work and sent him spiralling so hard that Theon had spent half the night outside.

Theon knows that Asha isn’t home for three more hours, so he shrugs half-heartedly and says “She’s at work.”

The girl frowns and crouches down a little lower. Theon guesses he doesn’t look like much of a threat right now.

“Damn,” she says. “Do you… want a tissue?”

The only thing Theon wants right now is for the ground to swallow him up, but since that’s not happening, he guesses a tissue is fine. He nods, and she rummages around in her grocery bag until she pulls out a pristine box of tissues.

She says, “Lucky you, I just bought some.”

They’re the nice aloe vera type, and feeling the soft paper against his sticky skin makes Theon tear up again. God, he’s a fucking mess.

The girl thinks so as well, because she raises her eyebrow at him. Theon would feel shame, but he’s just spent a good part of the last hour crying at his doorstep. He’s past shame. He pushes the tissue box back towards her, suddenly tired of her and tired of this and _tired,_ and says “Thanks.”

She just stares at him, ignoring the obvious out he just gave her. For somebody who clearly doesn’t want to be in this situation—Theon can tell: she keeps fidgeting, and shooting glances down the hallway, and she’s barely bothering to conceal her wariness of him—she doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

So he clears his throat again, speaks a little louder, and says, “I’ll be… fine. Um. You don’t have to stick around.”

She blinks at him, and then seems to make a decision. She nods, offers a shaky smile, and then turns around and opens the door across the hallway from Theon’s.

Theon’s still a little hazy, and it happens too fast for him to really process properly, so he’s left blinking in her aftermath as the door closes. He… honestly, he manages to choke a laugh. He knows he had told her to, but he hadn’t expected her to just fuck off so unceremoniously. She didn’t even say goodbye or anything.

Jesus, Theon is _pathetic._

He slumps back onto his door, still clutching the singular tissue his strange neighbour had offered him, and wonders if Asha will mind if he just passes out right here. It’s probably not the most embarrassing thing she’s seen him done. Asha’s been picking up after his shit for a long, long time now. Theon’s feeling pretty fucking maudlin, because he catches himself thinking that he doesn’t deserve her—and he _doesn’t,_ he knows, he just generally tries not to think about it.

And, while he’s on the topic of people who don’t deserve his shit… he’s been trying really, really fucking hard not to spiral about it, but Theon thinks about Robb and his family and his office and his functional, put-together life, and he feels the tears start up again.

Then, the door opposite him pushes open again.

The girl returns. 

She looks just as anxious, if not more so, but there’s a determined set to her face, and she’s holding a… tray of tea? 

Theon, bewildered, blinks at her.

It’s a literal tea set, including a matching tray, teapot, cups and sugar container. He hasn’t seen one of these… ever. He didn’t know that people owned these things.

The girl breathes in deeply, and then sets the tray down in front of Theon, and proceeds to sit in front of him. She’s practically in the middle of the hallway. The ground in this place has to be so dirty, and he can tell this tea set is made out of super nice ceramic. This is ridiculous.

She says “It’s just earl grey, but there’s sugar and milk, if you want it.” She then picks up the teapot, and carefully starts pouring.

Theon stares at her. He doesn’t—he can’t—he… what the fuck does he say to this?

She’s obviously trying not to look at him, as she continues to pour and stares intensely at the teacups themselves. Once both cups are full, she picks up a spoon and stirs in some sugar into one cup. 

Theon watches her do this without saying anything. He watches her go through the motions, and the sound of the stirring is strangely comforting. Even watching the steam rise off of the other cup, which he guesses is meant for him, is calming, because it gives him something to focus on that isn’t his own terrible problems.

That might be her point. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what this random stranger is doing here, making tea with him in the middle of their apartment block hallway.

She finally picks up the cup, bringing it to her mouth and blowing on it gently. Her eyes stray as she does this, and Theon manages to catch her glance.

She’s terrified. He can see it clearly; she doesn’t know what she’s doing, or why she’s doing it, or what Theon is going to do in response. Strangely, it makes him feel better. Knowing that she’s just as in the dark about this entire situation is somewhat reassuring.

To his surprise, it also makes him feel braver. There’s something about the way she moves and the fear he can read off of her that seems both familiar and heartbreaking, and Theon, despite everything, despite being deep in his head and wallowing in his hurts and feeling pathetic beyond belief, feels a touch of bravery.

He breathes out slowly, and says, “I’m Theon, by the way.”

She looks at him again but looks away just as quickly. Still, there’s a smile on her face. Just barely.

“I’m… Jeyne,” she says quietly. “I live across the hall.”

Theon quirks a smile. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely, “I could tell.”

Jeyne breathes out, and some of the tension leaves her. Some leaves Theon too, and he realizes just how exhausted he is, but hey. At least he’s not alone. 

He pulls himself off of the door and into a better sitting position, and reaches out for the teacup. His eyes are on Jeyne as he does, making sure this had been her intention, that he’s allowed to touch her nice ceramics with his tainted hands.

She smiles at him again. It’s somewhat forced, but he sees the intention behind it, so he breathes in again and takes the cup.

It’s warm. He hadn’t realized how cold his hands had been, but when he comes into contact with the heat of the cup, he gasps a bit. It feels good. It feels like it’s way, way too much, but it’s still good.

He cradles the cup gently and takes a sip, relishing the warmth as it spreads through him. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice how cold he was. Then again, he’s been kind of out of it.

“This is good,” he says, to fill the space. 

Jeyne nods at him, taking another sip. She says, “I really like tea. It usually helps calm me down, so…” and Theon can’t even find it in him to be bitter about being pitied. He’s a fighter, and he tends to snap at any hands that come to his aid, but this time…

This time, he truly, genuinely, cannot find the effort. Not to mention he’s a little worried that Jeyne might break down if he lashes out.

He also, secretly, privately, finds this nice and comforting, so that might be another reason.

Theon grins at her as best as he can, and says, “Well, I do need calming down.”

Jeyne snorts, and then looks like she isn’t sure that she can. Theon smiles at her, trying to give her the encouragement she seems to need. It’s somehow typical and also utterly unbelievable that the person who came to save Theon from his misery seems to be as much of a wreck as him.

She breathes in again, and takes another sip. She was right—it does seem to centre her, simply holding the tea in her hand. She asks “Do you… um… want to talk about it?”

Talking about his problems has always felt like pulling teeth to Theon, but if he can’t talk about them with his neighbour who has given him tea and who he has met for the first time, he’s probably a lost cause. And, well, he does believe that he’s a lost cause, but there’s a first time for everything. Being around Jeyne is weirdly calming. 

He replies “There’s… a lot. I don’t know if you could tell, but I’m kind of a mess.”

Jeyne nods, hiding a real, genuine smile behind her teacup. It’s a nice smile. It’s a safe smile. Jeyne smiles like she doesn’t know what else to do, which is exactly the way that Theon smiles, so seeing it grounds him a little.

He continues, “So there was this… boy,”

Jeyne snorts. “Ah,” she says, “boy problems.”

Theon has literally no way to argue against that, even if the wording makes him chafe, so he sighs and says, “Yeah, boy problems.”

“Go on,”

“Yeah. There was a boy. We weren’t dating,” Theon says, scrunching up his nose, “but we had an arrangement.”

“An arrangement,” Jeyne repeats, sounding amused. “You were friends with benefits,”

Theon scowls. “Friends is pushing it,”

“Oh,” Jeyne says, sounding even more amused. “Hatesex?”

Theon shrugs. He’s never really thought about it, and never enough to consider a label of any sort. “I guess you could call it that. Whatever you want to call it, we were on the same page, all of that shit. As far as I knew, it was working out pretty great for the both of us,”

His tone turns progressively angrier as he speaks. Jeyne is leaning in now, an interested light in her eyes. It’s funny, Theon realizes. This is the first time he’s ever told anybody about this, which means it’s the first time he’s even really thought deeply about how he felt about it all. And he’s… angrier, than he had expected to be. There’s a hurt that runs deeper than just his ego, and he’s only just picking up on it.

Jeyne prompts “And then?”

Theon blinks. “And then,” he says, hearing the hurt drip from his tongue, “he just breaks it off one day.”

“Just like that?” Jeyne asks. It’s nice to hear indignance in her voice, because Theon is starting to come to terms with the fact that he’s quite indignant over this.

“Just like that,” Theon echoes. “It was totally out of the blue. He just tells me one day that he doesn’t want to do it anymore. Doesn’t even want to like, hang out with me anymore. And he doesn’t even give me a reason, like, what the fuck?”

Jeyne looks properly mad now, which makes Theon want to laugh in triumph and cry a little. “What the fuck?” she repeats, and they stare at each other for a bit, quiet in their shared incredulity.

“I know,” Theon says, his hands tightening around the cup. Theon still—he can see it so clearly, Jon’s face in the hallway that morning. The way he had said, cold and careless, that they weren’t doing this anymore. 

Theon remembers asking why, because even though Jon Snow was insufferable and drove Theon up the wall, Theon had been… content, in their situation. He remembers asking, and he remembers receiving in return the most cutting look Jon has ever given him. 

He remembers Jon looking at him like… like there was something wrong with him. Like there was something irreparably broken about Theon, like he was both a tragedy and a disappointment, and Jon was breaking it off because he couldn’t put up with it anymore. Put up with all of Theon’s tragedy, and all of Theon’s brokenness, and all of Theon’s bullshit.

The worst part of all is that deep down, Theon knows that already. It’s buried under layers and layers of arrogance and standoffishness and vanity, but there’s a belief inside of Theon, unshakeable, that he’s irreparably damaged. That there’s something about him, so completely shattered and wrong, that he can’t come back from it. And to be told that by Jon Snow, of all people…

Theon finds himself blinking back tears again. He breathes out a bitter laugh as Jeyne frowns in concern, but he waves away her worries.

“It’s dumb,” he says, blinking through the wetness in his eyes. “We weren’t even dating. He can do what he wants, I don’t even care that much honestly, we weren’t—”

He pauses. “I guess it was no big deal to him.”

Jeyne’s face is set with anger, and Theon wants to tell her not to waste her energy, because he’s over it. He can’t say it. He can’t say it because he knows that he’s not, really, he’s not over it at all, and seeing her anger at least proves to him that his feelings aren’t irrational.

She says “That guy’s a _dick,”_ and then pours Theon some more tea, somehow making the gesture look angry. Theon laughs weakly.

“Wait until you hear how long we had been… together, for.”

Jeyne scowls. “Don’t tell me,” she says, and then she scowls even deeper and says “But keep going.”

Theon looks up at the ceiling and says “Two weeks before our ‘anniversary’, per se.” 

Jeyne makes a strangled noise, and Theon doesn’t need to look at her to know that she’s fuming. He does anyway, though, because he finds he quite likes looking at Jeyne. There’s something about her, even her anger, which makes Theon feel strangely safe.

His prediction proves correct; Jeyne looks like she’s on the verge of manslaughter.

“What a fucking _dick,”_ she spits, and all of the softness from earlier is gone, replaced by something sharp and bright and reassuring.

Theon sighs. “It’s whatever,” he says, because he really doesn’t want her to be too worked up over this. Like, some amount of worked up, sure, just for Theon’s peace of mind, but nothing too trying. It’s exhausting after all, being hurt. “It’s not like I was the perfect partner. Honestly, we were both kind of awful to each other. I just figured it was like… a mutual understanding.”

Jeyne frowns, but her entire demeanour has softened, so that’s something. She says, “That’s not the point. You didn’t deserve to just… be dropped like nothing after that long.”

Theon feels like he might’ve deserved it, somehow. He keeps this thought quiet. He’s just met Jeyne, and maybe he wants her illusion of him to continue for a while longer. Before all the bad comes crashing in, and she realizes exactly what he is.

Then, he blurts out, “That’s not all,”

Jeyne smiles another one of her safe smiles, and nods for him to continue.

“After Jon—that’s, that’s the guy—after he… dumped me, I was pretty upset.”

“Understandable,” Jeyne says, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t understand. Theon has switched tacks so quickly that he’s given himself whiplash, but he suddenly needs Jeyne to know, needs Jeyne who is alternatingly soft and sharp and who is obviously scared of strangers but willing to help anyway and who smiles because she has to, to know that he’s the bad guy. It’s Theon. Theon is the bad guy here.

“And I went to a party. And I… I met his brother. And I wanted revenge, you know?” and Theon chokes a laugh, because it sounds so fucking childish now, “so I…”

Jeyne blinks at Theon, and then says, “You fucked him?”

Theon gives her an empty smile. “I fucked him,”

Jeyne, who Theon is starting to think he should give up on predicting, throws back her head and laughs. “Theon,” she says through the chimes of her giggles, “that is _amazing_ revenge.”

Despite himself, Theon smiles. Genuinely. He replies, “Okay, yeah, I thought so too,” and Jeyne giggles more. 

Theon drinks more of his tea, even though it’s getting cold by now. He says, “And… well… I don’t know. I met up with his brother again. I don’t really know what I was trying to do, and I don’t think I even knew back then but… we kept meeting up.”

Jeyne raises her eyebrows. “To revenge fuck?”

Theon snorts. “I mean. Sometimes. But it was also just… to hang out. And I guess I kind of wanted to seduce Jon’s brother and then rub it in his face or show him what he was missing or something but along the way I…”

Jeyne’s eyes widen. Theon winces, knowing now that she knows. 

She says, “You fell in love,” and it’s terrifying, how it’s not even a question.

“I don’t know,” Theon blurts, because he doesn’t and he’s scared shitless. “I don’t… fuck, I don’t even know what love is,”

Jeyne doesn’t say anything. In the silence that follows, Theon finds his last shreds of bravery.

“If I did,” he starts. “If it was anybody.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but Jeyne seems to get it anyway. 

She smiles at him, and she says “I see. It’s not about Jon anymore, is it? It’s about him.”

Theon nods, because at some point during the past week, it’s become all about Robb. Maybe it was all about him from the very beginning. There’s no escape for Theon.

“God, I’m an idiot,” Theon says, dragging a hand across his face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I can’t keep this thing with R—with the brother going, and I can’t just say something, and if it were anybody else then I would’ve just run and never looked back by now but…”

He falls silent. He knows what he wants to say, but it terrifies him to his very core to even think about the words.

Jeyne, softly, asks “But?”

“But he’s not anybody else,” Theon mumbles. “I’ve never met anybody like him before.”

Jeyne frowns, and it’s like her sadness is hanging in the air, blanketing Theon. It doesn’t feel awful, but Theon isn’t feeling much of anything, to be fair. It’s just him, the neighbour girl who he just met and just spilled his life story to, and the cavernous emptiness inside of his chest.

“Oh, Theon,” Jeyne says. “You are an idiot,”

Theon laughs half-heartedly. “I’m aware,”

Jeyne smiles at him, and says, “If he’s as special as you think he is, then maybe it’ll work out. You can find some kind of understanding,”

Theon doesn’t really believe that, and he can tell that Jeyne doesn’t too. Jeyne is quite jaded, Theon notes; it’s like watching your reflection in the water, the way he can read the wariness off of her features. It makes him alternatingly upset and glad, because it means that somebody once hurt her, but it means now that she understands.

Theon is very, very lucky that it’s her who found him.

He says, “Yeah, thank you,” and offers her a smile. A shitty one, but smile regardless. “And even if it doesn’t work out, at least I made a friend.”

Jeyne laughs, and it’s windchimes and xylophones all over again. “Nice to meet you, neighbour,” she says with a grin.

“Nice to meet you too, neighbour,” Theon responds, feeling a little warmer now. 

Jeyne, smiling, pours herself some more tea. Theon can instantly tell it’s been steeping for too long, because when she takes a sip, her features scrunch up at the bitterness. Again, it makes him feel warmer. 

She looks up at him, and it’s as if she catches the fondness on his face, because she rolls her eyes. She says, “We need some new tea. Wanna come inside?”

Theon manages a proper laugh as he says “Oh, now I’m allowed to come in?”

Jeyne nods. “I’m not good with trusting people, but now that I’ve heard your story, I’m convinced that you aren’t smart enough to successfully murder me or anything,”

Theon makes a choked sound that can be approximated to laughing. When his vocal cords are in working order again, he says “Wow, don’t be presumptuous. Maybe I have hidden depths.”

Jeyne, hands full of delicately crafted china and with the features of a fairy, raises an eyebrow at Theon. It’s immediately cutting in how effective it is, and Theon laughs again. He feels the most like himself he’s felt in the past two hours.

Before Jeyne opens the door, she gives Theon a final once-over. He keeps himself from reacting to it, because he can tell that it’s important. It’s a story for another day, and hopefully Jeyne will tell him one day, but for now, all he needs to do is be aware.

It makes it more gratifying, anyway, when Jeyne nods to herself and pushes the door open. Theon feels a little less like a failure of a person. 

They step into her place together. It’s a comfortable apartment, with a similar layout to Theon and Asha’s. Not too heavily decorated, but it feels lived in. Like Jeyne, like Jeyne’s smile, it feels strangely safe. Reassuring. Maybe Theon’s emotional equilibrium is just all out of whack, but he feels more tension drain out of him at being inside.

Plus, there’s heating in here.

Theon feels himself unfreeze, and he thinks he’s finally pulled it together. He breathes in deeply, looks up to see Jeyne boiling another pot of water, and the tides of the self-loathing inside of him finally subside a little. He has to face the mess he’s made of his life eventually, but he’s here now with his weird neighbour who manages to not set off any of the deep-set insecurities Theon has when she smiles, so maybe it’s a start. Maybe it’s a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, reminder that i **added a bit to the previous chapter (6)!** go read it so that things make sense pls thank u... 
> 
> i really cant believe i had this entire thing planned out and then theon decided to go fuck that and now im like not even trying to get back on track. jeyne p wasn't even meant to show up until the end of this fic but i was like [points at theon] on god we're gonna get u friends


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna be real i have no excuse for how late this chapter is. sorry? it made me too sad to write. is that an acceptable reason

The thing is, Robb loves Jon. 

Jon is his best friend, his brother, his constant companion. Robb trusts him, has never trusted anybody else more, believes in his heart of hearts that when he doesn’t have anybody else, he still has Jon.

It’s like a fundamental part of Robb, right next to  _ has curly red hair _ and  _ is allergic to avocado. _

Despite all of this, when Jon sits Robb down in his apartment and tells him about Theon Greyjoy, the  _ real _ Theon Greyjoy, Robb almost hates him. 

Robb has never wanted to disbelieve Jon more in his life, but despite how badly he wants to scream at Jon and tell him it’s  _ not true _ because it can’t be,  _ it can’t be, _ he believes.

It’s a long, winding story, and Robb doesn’t want to hear any of it. But Jon says it anyway; Jon sits next to Robb on his uncomfortable couch, and in a rare show of affection, curls into Robb’s side like he’s hiding his face. 

It’s only when Jon mumbles “Theon Greyjoy and I used to date,” that Robb realizes the lack of eye contact is for both of their benefits.

“What?” Robb says. “I don’t—what?”

“Theon Greyjoy—” and the way Jon says his name,  _ Theon’s  _ name, is familiar and jaded, and it’s in that exact moment hearing that exact tone of voice that Robb starts to believe him. Theon’s name means something entirely different to Jon than it does to Robb. It’s terrifying.

“We used to date,” Jon continues. “Well. I don’t know about date, actually. See each other? Who the fuck knows. Pretty sure he only viewed me as a stress outlet,”

The bitterness in Jon’s tone hurts, both because it’s obvious that Jon is hurting, and because it’s directed at… Theon. 

Robb says, his throat already dry, “Are you saying that Theon was… the guy?”

Jon gives a dry snort. “Same guy after all,” he says, but neither of them finds it very funny now.

“Oh,” Robb replies. Distantly, he’s glad that Jon is finally telling him all the details. At a much more immediate level, he feels like throwing up. “Stress outlet,” he repeats, sounding out the words carefully, like if he pulls them apart and examines them hard enough they’ll become any more comprehensible to him.

Robb wishes he could see Jon’s face. He also is really, really glad he can’t.

“Stress outlet,” Jon says again. The term is so fucking awful. Robb feels sick even thinking it. “He’s… he’s not a good person, Robb,”

Robb’s heart, always open, always tender, reaches out and catches the punch of Jon’s words and takes it like a fucking champ. Robb swallows down the protest, tamps down on the thought of Theon’s arm around his shoulders and Theon’s hands in his hair. His vision blurs and he thinks about Theon smiling indulgently at him as he fumbles with braiding Theon’s hair, and when it focuses again, it’s on Jon’s defeated expression. They’re looking at each other now.

“He hurt you,” Robb says, sad and quiet.

Jon laughs, bitter. “He hurts everybody. We slept together for nearly a year and he still treated me exactly the same as he would his fucking postman or something. That’s who Theon really is. He plays around with people until he gets bored and then he just… drops them.”

Robb wraps his hand around Jon’s wrist, anchoring them both as best as he can. “He did that to you?” Robb asks, because he has to ask, because Theon is abrasive and judgemental but has never, in the time that Robb’s known him, been cruel. Or uncaring.

Jon shifts, pulling his arm away from Robb. He sighs. “No. I… I decided enough was enough, and broke it off with him. Nothing was changing, and he wasn’t… he didn’t care. It…  _ we _ weren’t a big deal to him. I had to end it,”

Robb’s been listening to Jon talk circles around his problems for years now. He’s the leading expert in translating Jon Snow’s strange emotional showings. So he knows that he isn’t mishearing, knows that he’s not mistaken; he hears the layers underneath Jon’s words, and he thinks he understands.

He says, hands consciously left open and unclenched, “You were in love with him,”

Jon looks up like a deer in headlights. His entire body jerks away from Robb, and with such force he almost goes over the couch arm. Robb reaches out and grabs his shoulder, anchoring him again, and to his relief, this time, Jon doesn’t pull away.

Their gazes meet.

Jon’s eyes are wide and vulnerable and like that, they’re children again; Robb is nine and running around the house, holding Jon’s hand and chasing away the ghosts of Jon’s parents and Catelyn’s frustration and Ned’s grief.

Jon drags a hand over his face. “I—” he starts, the makings of denial on his lips. He closes his eyes. “I was,” he says, shaping the words with discomfort but totally without doubt. “I couldn’t stop myself. He was… he was the person I spent the most time with. The closest with. Our thing just became something entirely different to me.”

The shock and horror hollow out Robb’s chest. It makes him feel sick and unsteady to hear Jon admit it because Robb had suspected but he hadn’t wanted to believe and now the ugly truth was staring him in the face. 

Jon had been in love with Theon. Theon had broken his heart.

Theon is breaking Robb’s heart.

He asks, mouth dry, “He knew?”

Jon nods slowly. “He knew,” he confirms. “He just… didn’t care to do anything about it.”

It’s unfair. It’s so unfair. Jon, who Robb loves so dearly, who has always put a wall between himself and other people, doesn’t deserve this.  _ Robb _ doesn’t deserve this.  

“Right,” Robb says, which is both an incredibly stupid response and the only thing he can think of to say. “Theon… Theon uses you. You fall in love. You break it off. Where… where do I come into this?”

Jon’s expression has been upset, and it has been bitter, and it has been hurt, but in that instant, it changes into something darker. Anger, Robb realizes. Jon is angry.

“You met at Robert’s party, right?” he asks, voice quiet and burning. 

Robb nods. Jon drags a hand over his face, but it doesn’t make the darkness go away. 

“Right,” Jon says, like he doesn’t know what else to say. Robb wonders whether he picked habit that up from Jon, or the other way around. “That was a week after I… broke up with Theon. Sorta. You know.”

“Yeah,” Robb replies. “That’s a… quick turnaround,”

Jon laughs. It’s a bitter and ugly sound. “I don’t think there was a turnaround at all. Theon probably wasn’t too happy that I was the one who ended things. He’s an egotistical jerk, after all.”

Robb supposes it’s a good thing that the kneejerk urge to defend Theon from those comments is fading. He just doesn’t know what’s settling in to take its place. “What are you saying?” Robb asks. He thinks he might know. He doesn’t want to hear it. He really, really doesn’t want to hear it.

“Look,” Jon says, sighing. “I know Theon. I had the misfortune of knowing Theon a lot better than you. He’s an asshole down to the bone and… if you met at that party so quickly after our breakup then I wouldn’t put it past him to… I don’t know.” Jon grimaces. “Use you to get back at me.”

When Robb’s heart breaks this time, it is a single, clean cut. With Jeyne, it had been a slow, steady erosion: slow enough that they could both see the end coming long before it actually happened. This time, Robb closes his eyes and feels the pain lancing through his chest, and spread throughout, just like that. No warning, no preparation.

“I’m sorry, Robb,” Jon says quietly.

Robb shakes his head. He doesn’t open his eyes, because if he does he’ll probably cry, but he does take Jon’s hand and grips it tightly. He says, “No, Jon. I’m sorry,”

Jon gives a choked laugh like he’s on the verge of crying too. “This is an entire sorry mess,” Jon says, and Robb has to scrub at his eyes. 

It’s happening all over again, the same stupid pattern in all of Robb’s relationships. He falls hard and fast and doesn’t realize that other people aren’t on the same page as him; they aren’t even reading the same fairytale storybook that he is. Robb doesn’t understand, because he remembers looking at Theon and seeing that Theon was looking back; it  _ can’t  _ possibly be that it wasn’t real all this time.

Then again, Robb understands perfectly. Robb had been looking and had only seen what he wanted to. It’s the same trap he falls into each time, and he would guard his heart a little more if only he knew  _ how. _

But he doesn’t. All he can do is fall, and hope there is somebody there to catch him at the end. There never is. He has to pick himself back up.

He says, voice rough, “I’m going to… go.” He takes in a deep breath, and it is unsteady, but it’s oxygen all the same. He opens his eyes.

Jon looks like he wants to protest, but sees something in Robb’s expression that stops him. Maybe it’s just the fact that Jon probably wouldn’t know what to say. They’re the same age, sure, but Robb is the older brother. The protector. Robb’s been knocked off his pedestal but he has to claw back up there all the same, so he nods at Jon and gives him one last hug.

“Take care of yourself, Robb,” Jon says quietly. “I’m sorry,”

Robb gives Jon a weak smile. “You too, Jon. Thank you… for telling me.”

Jon’s expression almost borders on regret, but it doesn’t quite make it there, which Robb is glad for. He’s feeling enough regret as it is, and in the end, he is glad that Jon said something.

Robb realizes that this entire charade could’ve been avoided, had he just told Jon about Theon that first morning. 

He leaves promptly, so that he can be alone to properly beat himself up over that. When he gets into his car he sees Theon’s things in the passenger seat, and the wave of grief that hits him is so strong he feels like he’s being pulled out to sea. 

Everybody is right, he realizes. His romantic nature is more naivety than anything, and it’s never going to stop getting him hurt.

* * *

Robb’s an adult, or close enough, so there’s only so much time he can spend lying in bed and spiralling in his head before he says enough is enough. He still… it still  _ hurts, _ and he doesn’t know that it’ll ever stop hurting. Even though breaking up with Jeyne had wrecked him, it still felt nothing like this. 

That’s maybe the only good thing that’s come out of this mess; he’s surer now than ever that whatever he had with Jeyne was good, but wasn’t it. It didn’t feel like this, after all. Not quite as devastating, or as disappointing, or as bitter. 

Robb’s sitting at his desk now, staring at Theon’s phone and wallet and keys and wondering what he should do. He doesn’t want to see Theon, and it’s the first time he’s ever had that thought since meeting Theon. 

Robb just doesn’t think he can handle it. The thought makes nausea rise up in his throat, because he’s terrified of seeing the truth, of seeing Theon without the facades and the masks and the pretending. If Robb confronts Theon and Theon drops the pretence in return, or confirms that it had never been real, there will be a part of Robb that never recovers.

Even more so, Robb is terrified that he will show up and confront Theon, and Theon will try and make him stay. He’s terrified because he doesn’t know that he’ll be able to say no, if Theon is kind and caring and bright like Robb knows—fuck—knew him to be. 

Seeing him face to face is out of the question. Robb needs to end this somehow, but he also needs to protect what’s left of his poor heart, and Theon in person would be plain devastating. Even the image of Theon in Robb’s mind’s eye, grinning and gorgeous Theon as he remembers him, is devastating.

Robb tries his best to be brave, always has, always will, but he admits defeat here. The Theon in his mind smiles at him and he thinks  _ this is helpless. _

He needs another way.

Texting is out of the question. Robb doesn’t know if he’s as good a person as everybody thinks, but he’s definitely above breaking up with somebody over text, and anyway—Theon doesn’t have his phone.  _ Robb  _ does. 

If it was anything else, Robb would just mail it, but being without your phone or wallet for even a day or two isn’t ideal, not to mention Theon’s  _ house keys.  _ Even if Theon’s an asshole, Robb doesn’t want to genuinely ruin his life or anything. Actually, most of Robb still wants to run to Theon and beg him to deny everything, but Robb ignores that part.

Robb is deep into mulling over his possible options when there’s a knock on his door. He bites his lip in hesitation. He doesn’t know that he wants to see any of his siblings right now, because none of them understand the situation, and he doesn’t want to have to explain it. It’s been pretty obvious that he’s been moping, because he’s usually spending as much time as he can with his family, but he just… can’t, right now.

However, the voice that calls out “Robb, are you okay?” isn’t one that belongs to any of his siblings. It belongs to his mum.

He’s getting up from the desk and pulling open the door before she even has a chance to follow up on her question, feeling his grief come back in full force.

Catelyn looks down at him, because she’s  _ still _ taller than him now, and there’s concern and confusion in her gaze. That gets wiped away quickly when she properly takes in Robb, and is quickly replaced with a deep sadness.

He pulls her into the room as she’s saying “Oh, sweetheart,” and it’s hearing that, uttered gentle and loving, that makes Robb tear up.

As soon as the door is closed he steps into her already open arms, buries his face in her shoulder and tries to keep his hiccups to a minimum. She’s got a hand rubbing down his back and one patting at his hair. The gestures are familiar, and bring him the same comfort that they have all of his life. From skinned knees to broken hearts. Robb needs to remember that he doesn’t have to deal with it alone.

He says, muffled into her clothing, “I’m so glad you’re here,”

Catelyn makes some more meaningless soothing noises, and then says, “I heard from Sansa, who heard from Jon, that something was up,”

The thought of Jon and Sansa gossiping about him startles Robb so much that he actually stops crying, too busy pondering the miracles of a world that enabled Sansa Stark and Jon Snow to have a civil conversation. Catelyn picks up on his reaction because she laughs softly and nods in agreement. 

“I know,” she says, “when Sansa showed me the texts I was shocked too,”

She steps back a little so that they can see each other’s faces and smiles at him. She brings up a hand to wipe away one of his tears, and Robb smiles back at her, even if it’s watery and half-hearted.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asks. Robb nods.

They end up seated on his bed, with Robb leaning against the headboard and his mum sitting on the side a bit further down from him. She’s got a hand around his ankle, and even though it’s not doing anything, the mere presence calms him.

This is how he spills the story, the entire, sordid, heartbreaking encounter: her thumb rubbing circles into his ankle, and Robb’s hands clenched into fists. He watches the pain and anger and sympathy flicker across his mother’s face, and it makes it a little better, dealing with this hurt. It’s terrible to have to deal with it at all, but he’s got something to cushion the fall, at least.

After he explains the situation and tells her of his current dilemma, there’s a bit of silence. 

Only a bit, because then Catelyn says, “Come here, Robb,” and opens her arms again. Obviously, Robb moves into the hug, feeling his mother’s arms wrap around him and feeling safe in the way that only Catelyn can evoke in him. Not even Ned, although he loves his father dearly.

She presses a kiss to his forehead, and then releases him. She keeps one arm around him, though, so Robb leans into her shoulder and feels his tears dry.

“So you need a way to get this boy’s stuff back to him, without seeing him,” she says. Robb nods. “And you need to tell him that you don’t want to see him anymore as well.”

Another nod. Robb, voice a little hoarse, says, “Preferably without him finding out that Jon told me. I’m worried that he’ll… I don’t know. Try to hurt Jon more over this.”

His mother nods in understanding. Sighing, she says, “You know, I thought I raised you boys to have better taste than this.”

Robb laughs weakly at that. Theon had  _ seemed _ like a great option at first, but Robb doesn’t know how much of that was his rose filtered glasses and how much was genuinely Theon.

They both fall silent for a while. Robb is content to sit there and bask in his mother’s calming presence, but Catelyn has her thinking face on—Robb knows that she’s planning something. That makes him happy too. She’s always had good advice, and Robb, who can no longer trust his judgement, will be glad to hear it.

Finally, his mum’s expression clears. She turns to look at him, smiling thoughtfully, and says, “How about you write him a letter?”

“Like… handwritten?” Robb asks.

Catelyn nods. “Yeah, handwritten. You could probably borrow Sansa’s letter writing kit, I think she has one somewhere. It’s more personal than a text, and you can say everything you need to say without confrontation.”

“The mailing time would be too long,” Robb protests, but he’s already coming around to the idea.

“Then just drop it off at his place, along with his things,” Catelyn says. “You don’t have to see him. Or send somebody to do it,”

The more Robb thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. It’s… almost sweet, the idea of writing a letter, and as much as he wishes he didn’t, Robb still wants to be good to Theon. He doesn’t want to hurt Theon any more than necessary, and he doesn’t want to pretend like Theon didn’t mean anything to him. A handwritten letter is… it’s a sign of care, and effort, and it carries more weight than a text ever could.

It’s weirdly perfect.

He gives his mother a shaky smile, which she returns except steadier, safer. He says, “I love you,”

Catelyn’s smile softens into something fond and indulgent, and she pulls him in again to place another kiss on his forehead. A hand running through his curls, she mumbles into his forehead “I love you too, Robb. May I ask the full name and address of this boy?”

Robb laughs. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, mum,” he says.

“I’m not fighting your battles for you,” Catelyn replies with a grin. “I’m just going to wage additional, smaller battles, alongside yours.”

For the first time since he heard the news, Robb genuinely laughs. 

Catelyn beams to see it, and says, “I’ll go ask Sansa about that letter kit, and you can get started, yeah?”

Robb breathes out, and breathes back in. He’s still heartbroken, still struggling in the storm of his grief, but maybe shore is in sight. He says, “Yes, please.”

* * *

It takes two hours for him to complete the final letter. He has a lot to say to Theon, Robb realizes. He tends to speak from the heart, which makes the task both more and less difficult; still, when he’s reading through the final product, he feels. Not good, but… settled.

Maybe that’s the best he can hope for.

He drives to the apartment building printed on Theon’s address, the sealed letter and box of Theon’s things in his passenger seat. He considers leaving them in the mailbox, but even that feels impersonal, and he’s not sure that the box will fit in there. 

Robb ponders the odds of running into Theon and finds them fairly in his favour; the chances are low, and he feels calm enough now that if it did come to confrontation, he could probably make it through. Or he can at least give Theon his stuff and then make a run for it.

However, when he steps out of the stairwell and into the hallway corresponding to Theon’s address, it’s not Theon who Robb meets.

It’s a woman. She’s tall and striking and wearing a somewhat scruffy looking uniform, but none of those things are what stands out to Robb. What stands out is that she looks like Theon.

_ Asha, _ he thinks, remembering Theon’s recounts of his sister. She exits from the elevator, glancing at Robb before continuing down the hallway.

Robb blurts out, “Are you Theon’s sister?” before she gets too far.

She stops, turns around, and gives him an assessing look. It’s the same judgementally friendly look Theon gives people when he first meets them, and the similarity makes Robb feel simultaneously amused and sad.

She cocks her head and says, “Guilty. Asha Greyjoy. Who are you?”

“I’m…” Robb doesn’t know what to say. “I’m a… uh… a friend.”

Asha raises an eyebrow at him in perfectly doubtful scrutiny. He gives her an awkward smile. She mutters something like, “I don’t think Theon has those,” but it’s obviously not for Robb to reply to, so he continues to smile.

She narrows her eyes, and steps closer. “Do you want me to get Theon?”

Robb shakes his head, hoping he doesn’t look too frantic. “I wanted to, um, drop something off for him.” He raises the letter and the box in his hands. He’s glad he took the time to seal everything carefully, so that she can’t tell what exactly it is he’s giving her little brother. 

Her gaze travels over the box and the letter, and when it lands back on Robb’s face, there’s a glint in her eyes. He swears he can feel sweat start to form on his palms. 

“You want to drop that package off for Theon,” she says.

“...Yes.”

“You intend to surprise Theon by dropping this package off,” she says.

“Sure?”

Asha’s expression changes again, and now she’s eyeing Robb with a smirk and another considering look. Robb doesn’t know what to make of it, except that it makes him a little uncomfortable. Just a little. He’s  _ not _ scared of Theon’s older sister.

“Fascinating,” she says. “Would you like me to pass it on to him?”

Robb isn’t entirely sold on the idea of making Asha an unknowing participant in his and Theon’s breakup, but it would be a step above leaving it at the doorstep. 

He scratches the back of his head, giving a nervous laugh, and says, “That would be great.”

The longer Asha stares at him, the most uncomfortable he feels. It’s the  _ way  _ she’s staring as well, like she knows exactly what he’s here for—except she couldn’t know, because otherwise, she wouldn’t look quite so delighted. Robb has no idea what’s happening.

“Sure,” she drawls. “Theon’s  _ friend, _ I will definitely pass on your package.”

She holds out a hand, looking expectant and deeply amused, and Robb tries not to let his dread and confusion show on his face as he hands the box and letter to her. 

She takes them and inspects them; for a moment, Robb’s scared she’s going to open the letter and read it. Then, she tucks them under her arm, and gives him a grin. It’s almost a leer, and it’s almost a threat.

“I’ll make sure he gets this,” Asha says, giving Robb another once over. Robb has no fucking idea what’s going on. He just nods, and tries not to panic.

“Um, thank you,” he says, clinging onto politeness in the face of this distressingly strange encounter. 

Asha smiles at him again, and it’s a little less unnerving this time. It looks a lot more like the smiles Theon used to give Robb, a thought which makes Robb’s stomach twist a bit.

He says, running his hand through his hair and averting his eyes, “I better get going then,”

Asha nods. “Of course,” she says. “Lovely meeting you, Theon’s mystery friend,”

It occurs to Robb that he hasn’t introduced himself, and the mortification is enough to distract him completely from Asha’s weirdness. He looks back towards Asha, suddenly stumbling over his words to rectify his mistake, his face reddening.

“Robb,” he blurts. “I’m Robb Stark,”

Asha raises an eyebrow again, but she smiles. “Right. Lovely meeting you, Robb Stark.”

Robb bobs his head. “You too,” he says quickly. “Um, thanks again.”

Asha gives him a quick wave, which he returns. Clearly dismissed, Robb turns around and immediately books it down the stairs. He doesn’t stop his steady march until he’s safely in his car.

Sitting in his driver’s seat, he breathes out, feeling like it’s the first time he’s done that since he walked inside the apartment building. 

It hits him, like glass shards embedding into his skin, that he just broke up with Theon. He was distracted by Asha’s appearance, but he went in there to end it all, and he has.

It’s over.

He sinks back into his seat. Feelings crash over him: the doubt, the hurt, the betrayal. He feels like he’s sinking, and he… he doesn’t fight it. His heart sinks into the tar of his despair, and he drives back home like that: the last memory of Theon smiling alongside his sisters a lance in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anybody who guesses what asha is thinking in the last scene gets uh.... my admiration? sorry for messy emotions and mood whiplash i am bad at writing emotional scenes. ALSO i don't know if the robb and catelyn scene is any good bc im gonna be real w yall rn. i have no experience with positive parental interaction. i dont know how that shit works


End file.
